


Anything You Want

by SoriSeeraKyra



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Prostitution, Rags to Riches, References to Drugs, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2018-12-24 01:46:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12002355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoriSeeraKyra/pseuds/SoriSeeraKyra
Summary: Nights in Gotham can be scary and cold but its also the time when you meet the most interesting people.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Request I got on tumblr will only be a few chapters. I hope you enjoy it!

It wasn’t that you weren’t used to the cold, it just seemed like winters in Gotham were designed to kick your ass. Your breath appears in front of you as you breathe out. You’d been shivering since you had left your apartment, but now that the snow was beginning to fall you didn’t know if all the shivering in the world would stimulate your body to keep you warm. You would put on the fur jacket that you had casually swung over your arm, but that closes the opportunity for your customers to notice the goods you had so readily on display. Not that your exposure had been doing you much good anyway. It was a slow night.  Only one or two cars had stopped so far and none of them had seemed interested in what you had to offer.

 

Leaning back against the wall and brining a cigarette up to your lips you watch as a car rolls to a complete stop in front of the group of girls waiting with you. It’s a nice car from what you can see, more than nice judging by the ‘oohs’ that ran through the crowd of women.

 

A cry of “Back off!” rang through the crowd and the girls kept themselves from crowding around the vehicle.

 

A form that you recognize as your friend Kayla stands in the middle, blocking the crowd. She beckons you over and runs a practiced hand through her dyed platinum blonde hair in exasperation.

 

“She’s got to pay her rent at the end of the week!” She reasoned with some of the more frustrated girls as you worked your way through the mass of upset women.

 

At her plea they back off, albeit with some grumbles.

 

A crooked smile works its way over her brown features and she gives you a slight pat on your rear for encouragement.

 

“Go get’em girlie,” she says with a thumb up.

 

“Thanks for the help,” you say in passing as your run a hand through your own hair in an attempt to fluff and make it more appealing.

 

You walk up to the car, throat tightening with nerves. Kayla was right, you did need to make this sell, your landlord was always on your ass when it came to your rent. You choked it up to the fact that you were in a rent controlled room and if he could kick you out he’d be able to raise the amount of money that he could get. A day late and he’d start the eviction papers.

 

The car is a glossy gray color and even in the black of night it shines slightly, whoever this was, they had money.

 

You raise your hand and knock on the window of the car and after a few seconds of waiting the dark window begins to descend.

 

“Looking for a good time?” You question.

 

At first the owner of the car doesn’t react, doesn’t turn his gaze to look at you almost like he’s lost so deep in his thoughts he can’t hear you.

 

Irritated, you bang on the door of the car trying to gain his attention, in response his sharp blue eyes turn to take in your form.

 

“I said, ‘Looking for a good time?’” you repeat.

 

He eyes you for a moment before he lets a charming smile roll over his features.

 

“I’m looking more for directions than entertainment.”

 

“I can provide both and they both still cost. Five dollars for directions.”

 

He looks at you incredulously, and holds up his phone, “I don’t exactly need your help, do I?”

 

“Ain’t no service around here, you’ll be driving around in circles waiting for that thing to kick in,” you say with a smack of your lips.

 

He looks down at his cell phone and you don’t miss the twitch of annoyance that rolls over his lips when he sees that you are right.

 

“Price went up to ten dollars.”

 

He looks at you for a moment eyes narrowing at your price jacking. “You wouldn’t happen to have change for a twenty, would you?”

 

Your eyes light up with glee as you watch the man start to fumble with his wallet. Instead of giving him time to look for the appropriate amount, you grab the handle and slide in the car.

 

“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go for twenty dollars,” you say with a pleasant smile.

 

He takes in your rather scantily clad form with a raised eyebrow, “Isn’t it a bit chilly outside?”

 

You looked down at your high heeled boots, mini skirt, and crop top and huffed as you laid your jacket over your exposed form, “I’ve developed a tolerance to the cold.”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“So, where are you trying to go?”

 

“The Crown, you know it? I’m supposed to be there right now for a benefit.”

 

You shake your head and let out a chuckle, “You’re a long way away from there.”

 

“I figured,” he said turning the key and letting the engine of the car turn over.

 

“Head straight and make a left at the light,” you say taking in luxury of the car and rubbing the seat. “Is this actual leather?”

 

“Yes,” he says not bothering to take his eyes off the road.

 

“And you can barely hear the engine,” you say in amazement. “It’s not like the piece of junk my dad used have. Cracked cloth seats, engine so loud you couldn’t hear the radio, not mention the black cloud coming out of the tail pipe.  It was horrible. Make a right up here and get on the freeway.”

 

“Oh, really?” He asked after he follows your directions. “Was the car special? Didn’t have the heart to get rid of it?”

 

“No, we just couldn’t afford a new one,” you say looking out of the window and watching the lights of the city pass by. “Take the next exit then turn right.”

 

“I’m sorry, was it hard growing up?”

 

“Could have been better, could have been worse.”

 

He glances at you from the corner of his eye as he comes to stop at a stop light, “What’s your name?”

 

“What do you want it to be?” You ask turning your gaze to meet his blue eyes with a smirk.

 

He raises an eyebrow and gives you a slightly disproving look and you mumble your name and turn back to look out the window. You close your eyes and sink into the seat, and you let out a slight groan of irritation.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Only the fact that your car seat is more comfortable than my spring mattress and that it’s totally unfair. Keeping going straight for a while now.”

 

“How much do…people in your profession make?” He questions. You roll your head and open an eye to look at his handsome face.

 

“Out of my group back there? Most people charge anywhere from twenty to three hundred, depends on what you’re looking for and who you’re looking to do it with,” you say with a shrug.

 

“Three hundred a night?”

 

“An hour.”

 

You watch as his eyes enlarge slightly at the revelation, “And how much do you…charge?”

 

“Two hundred,” you say with a wink and slightly pulling the edge of your skirt up to flash more skin then you’d been showing.

 

“Two Hundred an hour and you can’t afford a better mattress?”

 

“Times are slow. The johns get scared off thinking that the Batman is going to get them, even when we tell the he’s not going to come. They’re always afraid he’s going to jam them up somehow. He’s really cutting into a working girls lively hood, y’know,” you say with an exasperated sigh. “That and it’s hard to pay rent when your roommate snorts the rent money.”

 

“Sorry,” he says.

 

“Don’t apologize. You aren’t Batman, are you?”

 

“No.”

 

“You aren’t selling my roommate coke, are you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then don’t say sorry,” You say with a shrug. You feel a smirk rise to your features and your rest a hand on his large thigh. “You can ease a girl’s worries though.”

 

He looks at the smirk on your face and one matching your own curls across his. You think that he’s going to give in, especially when you note the way his eyes darken at the proposition.

 

However, he shakes his head and a more amused smile replaces the smirk. You roll your eyes and remove your hand.

 

“Turn left and we’re there.”

 

True to your word, the moment the car turned down the road he could see the familiar sight of The Crown Hotel.

 

He pulls up in front of the hotel and parks. Almost immediately the valet runs to your side of the vehicle. When the door opens the valet visibly pales at your appearances and almost jumps back.

 

Your mystery man, having already left his side of the car, uses his arm to push the man back from you and gives him a slight glare before he offers you his hand.

 

“Will you be needing your car anymore this evening, sir?” The valet asks.

 

He doesn’t turn his gaze from you as he shakes his head and hands the man the keys.

 

“So, this is it,” he says releasing your hand.

 

“Appears so,” you respond with a shrug. You examine your surroundings and see a bus stop not too far down the street. “Have fun at your fancy party.”

 

“I will,” he says giving you another one of his charming smiles. “You be safe on your way back to your office.”

 

You chuckle, “All the people I’d have to be safe from are the ones that keep that office running.”

 

“I suppose so.”

 

You toss him a wave and start down the street, going to sit on the cold wooden bench and wait for the next bus. Maybe if you got lucky there would be a customer willing to take you back to “your office” when you were finished.

 

***

Bruce watched as the woman went and sat down and wondered if she felt as conflicted as he did.

 

Was it right just to leave her there? He didn’t know. He knew it was part of her occupation to wonder the dark streets at night, but he couldn’t bring himself to willingly ignore the fact that she was putting herself in danger.

 

He checks his watch and sees how late it is, at almost one in the morning, the benefit was surely over.  He could deal with a few angry socialites by cutting them a check.

 

He bites the inside of his cheek contemplating his next course of action, but the woman makes his mind up for him when he sees her rub at her shoulders, slightly shuddering from the cold.

 

Coolly, he walks over to where she’s sitting.

 

“Isn’t it chilly?”

 

She turns to look back at him, with slightly wide eyes, probably wondering why he hadn’t gone inside yet.

 

“A little,” she admits casually. “But I can’t afford not to be on display, rents due at the end of the week.”

 

“So, you’re just going to wait here for a bus and hope you don’t turn into a popsicle?”

 

“Or a client who doesn’t mind turning on the heater in his car could show up, there is always that possibility.”

 

He looks at her soberly, not liking the idea of her getting in some stranger’s car the way that she had with him. There were so many people who would willingly hurt a person in her profession, and then blame the victim.

 

He rocks slightly on his heels for a moment, unsure about how to pose his next question.

 

“What’s your name?” She says looking at him with doe eyes. She was young, certainly old enough to be rather street smart but a least a decade younger than he was.

 

“Bruce,” he responds being coy. He doesn’t give her his last name, and he wonders if she ‘ll put together who he is.

 

“Bruce,” she repeats and then flashes him a toothy smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Bruce.”

 

Her hand juts out at him and she waits for him to shake it. He takes it willingly and with a smile, and he’s slightly surprised by the conflicting textures on her hand. The palms are soft, the way he expected it to be, but her knuckles are slightly callused. His thumb lingers for too long on the back of her knuckles and she forcefully pulls her hand away from him.

 

He watches as she ashamedly holds her hand close to her chest, and her mouth falls into a natural pout. “Not everyone is nice like you, okay?”

 

So, they were rough from fighting someone off, maybe multiple people. He feels his heart thud in worry as she turns away from him, and he knows he can’t let her leave.

 

“Would you like to come up with me?”

 

“Hmm?” she questions turning back to face him with a cock of her eyebrow.

 

“Would you like to come up to my room with me?”

 

She pauses for a moment, searching his eyes, wondering if he was honestly asking what she thought he was, and she smiles when she finds her answer. She pushes herself off the bench and slips her faux fur coat on.

 

“Let’s go,” she says taking his hand and starting to pull him toward the hotel.

He squeezes her hand gently and it causes her to stop and look back at the man with a curious gaze.

 

“As much as I like your outfit,” he says eyes stopping at her midriff, where both her coat and shirt stopped, before running over her exposed legs. “This kind of place is full of fuddy-duddies who aren’t going to be so fond of your choices.”

 

“What should I do then?” she questions.

 

Bruce quickly looks to the curb and notices that his car is gone, the valet had already taken it back, and so there was no way he could get his trench coat from the back of the car. He begins to unbutton his suit jacket. He’s taller than her and much more broad and so he imagines that once he puts the jacket on her that it will at least fall to her mid-thigh and meet with the top of her boots.

 

When he puts the clothing on her shoulders, he watches with an amused smile as she slips her arms through the larger holes of his jacket. She smooths the fabric down before doing a slight twirl.

 

“Acceptable?” She questions.

 

“More than,” he says with a smile and grabbing her hand leading her into the building.

 

The moment that their feet cross the threshold of the building they almost simultaneously let out a sigh of relief at the heat the floods their senses

 

Bruce’s eyes quickly find the check-in desk and he moves to pull the both of them in that direction, but finds that his companion is almost immovable.

 

He turns to looks back at her and sees her slightly gapping at the high ceilings, chandleries, and gold trim of the lobby.

 

“You okay?” He asks in a soothing tone as he notices her eyes dart back and forth between the decorations and the people who are now giving her a more than curious glance.

 

“Yeah, I just-,” Her eyes flutter around nervously for a second and he wonders if she realizes how tightly she’s squeezing his hand. “I’m fine.”

 

“All right,” he says and begins to move in the direction of the desk.

 

He can hear the whispers coming from the patrons at the hotel, most likely spillover from the benefit who either hadn’t left yet or gone to their rooms, wondering why he’d not shown up and why he was here with her.

 

“I need my room tonight,” he says with a smile as the receptionist greets him. The blonde woman in front of him casts a glance at his companion but ignores her after the first onceover. He is curious as to how many times she’s seen men like him bring a person of his companion’s profession in here.

 

“Of course, Mr. Wayne,” she says as she begins printing out his key cards. “The penthouse is always open for you.”

 

“Thank you,” he says with a sterling smile. He pauses, however when she only slides him one card. “I’ll need another.”

 

“Oh,” she says with slightly wide eyes again glancing at his companion who’s currently ignoring the both of them and trying to make herself seem smaller. “Of course, sir.”

 

“Thank you,” he says when she gives him the other card.

 

Its silent for the most part when they walk through the lobby, people too concerned about staring down his young companion to focus on the conversations that they were having. When they stop in front of the elevator there is a couple chatting there but all chatter stops when they see the couple.

 

“Mr. Wayne,” the man starts, “We didn’t see you at the benefit.”

 

“I got lost and needed some help finding the place,” he says with a smile.

 

“Of course, of course,” the older man replies. “Gotham can be so confusing at night, especially when the criminals come out, it’s like the streets change. I imagine to those that know them well though, the streets in day are the strange places.”

 

It’s not a good barb, nothing incredibly intelligent about it, but it causes his companion to flinch anyway. He watches as she casts her gaze over her shoulder. Something surprising happens when she sees the man though, her eyes seem to light up in recognition.

 

“Carl, isn’t it?” She questions. “Honey says she is raising the prices on her special services so the next time you want to call her “Mommy” it’ll be an extra fifty.”

 

Carl seems to melt in embarrassment as the woman next to him, whom Bruce assumed was his wife, turned and looked at him with fire in her eyes.

 

The elevator dings and the doors open and Bruce and the young woman walk in. When the doors close, they can hear Carl scream, “It’s a case of mistaken identity!”

 

“A little vindictive, are we?” Bruce asks as he hits the button for the top floor.

 

“Well I couldn’t let _everyone_ just walk all over me, could I?” She says taking her hand from his and crossing her arms over her chest. “I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

 

“I don’t blame you,” he says with a shrug.

 

“I wouldn’t care if you did.”

 

He tilts his gaze to look at the woman, for the most part he believed her, but the way she clung onto him while they walked through the lobby caused him to think otherwise.

 

The elevator stops with a ding at the top floor and opens into the penthouse.

 

She seems slightly confused for a moment. There is no door or hallway. The elevator just opened and presto they’re in the room.

 

Tentatively she steps out and examines the penthouse. Bruce walks behind her slowly, taking in her reaction. She spins slightly causing her heels to click on the white marble floor. She catches the windowed walls that give an amazing view of the city and she goes to take in the sight.

 

“I don’t remember the last time I was so high up before,” she mumbles as she presses herself against the glass, trying to ingrain the view of Gotham’s city lights into her mind so she wouldn’t forget what it looked like when she left.

 

Bruce watched her take in the room and moved to sit on one of the couches himself.

 

She came back a few minutes later and stood in front of the waiting Billionaire. “You know this place is as big as my whole floor in my apartment building. Do you know how many people could live in here?”

 

“I’ve never thought about it,” he says and then reaches for the phone sitting on the end table. “Thirsty?”

 

“Yeah,” she says beginning to shrug off his coat. “Can I have some coke?”

 

He looks at her and smiles. Along with the Coca Cola her orders her a bottle of champagne and a platter of fruit.

 

“And chocolate!” she adds.

 

And chocolate.

 

When he hangs up the phone he finds her wide eyes examining him with curiosity.

 

“So, are we going to do this?”

 

He’s slightly caught off guard by her forwardness, “Already?”

 

“I’m sure you know time is money, Mr. Wayne.”

 

“You know?”

 

“I’m not stupid, I’ve lived in Gotham for years now, I’d have to be living under a rock to at least not have heard of you,” she says arms crossing over her chest. “But that isn’t important. How long am I here and do you have the cash to pay me, is.”

 

“A business woman, then,” he says with a smirk crossing his features.

 

“Have to be.”

 

“I was thinking that you could stay the whole night.”

 

She pauses for a moment, “All of it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That’s expensive.”

 

“You know who I am.”

 

Her eyes fill with a bit of playfulness at his cocky response, “I’ve met rich guys before who still didn’t want to pay the fee.”

 

“That’s not me.”

 

“No, it doesn’t seem like it.”

 

There is a shrill ringing sound that comes from where the elevator doors are and it causes her to jump in surprise. Bruce calmly presses a button on the phone and the door opens to reveal a server with the tray of items’ he’d ordered.

 

“Here we are, sir,” the man says rolling in. He stops when she gets up and looks at the items on the cart.

 

She grabs a chocolate bar off the cart and takes it from him and pushes it into the middle of the living room, “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” the server says slightly confused by her presence, but he exits the room with no fuss.

 

“This is good,” she says biting into the chocolate bar as she sits back down on the couch.

 

“I’m glad you like it.”

 

She stares at him for a moment, letting the chocolate melt in her mouth before swallowing, “What is it that you want?”

 

He gives her a questioning glance.

 

“I mean, you certainly weren’t looking for sex tonight, so why am I here?”

 

He doesn’t say anything at first, trying to figure out how best to voice his thoughts, “When I saw you sitting on that bench, and realized that you would be alone, that anyone could come and hurt you anyway they wanted I couldn’t just let you go.”

 

“I’m a big girl and I’ve been doing this for a long time,” she says standing up. She places the wrapper of the chocolate bar down and begins to remove her fur coat. “That also means, I preferred to get paid up front.”

 

“How much?”

 

“When do you want me gone?”

 

“When do you wake up in the morning?”

 

“It depends on how late of night I had.”

 

“Tell you what, when you wake up in the morning we’ll count the hours and I’ll pay you then.”

 

She looks at him, eyes narrowing suspiciously. She doesn’t think he’s stupid nor does she think he would try to skimp on her money, but he definitely wasn’t acknowledging the ‘paid up front’ part of the equation.

 

“Sixteen hundred minimum, up front, right now,” she says arms crossed.

 

He raises an eyebrow at her price, “Eight hours?”

 

“That’s the recommended amount of a good night’s rest, isn’t it? If you say we’ll count the hours I need some proof that you’ll at least give me the bare minimum.”

 

“Cash?”

 

“Or credit,” she says with a smirk. “I’m more than accommodating.”

 

“You are astounding,” he says after a pause.

 

“I do business in the modern world, people don’t usually carry cash like that anymore.”

 

“Here,” he says pulling a credit card out of his wallet and holding it out to her. “Take what you need.”

 

She slowly takes the black card from his hand and looks at him warily, “What I need?”

 

“You said you needed rent and a bed, didn’t you?” He questions as he stands to open the bottle of champagne and pour each of them a glass. “I’m sure there something else you need, so take it.”

 

He passed her a glass and sat back down in his chair. She did the same, opting to place her glass between her thighs while she dug for her phone in her jacket pocket. When she takes her phone in her hand she meets his gaze again and he nods. She opens the cash app on her phone and proceeds to enter the information on his card. When it came to the amount that she wanted to charge him she hesitated for a moment, wanting to take him up on his offer.

 

There was plenty that she needed. She needed to get out of her shitty apartment and away from her cokehead roommate. She needed fresh food and clothes and other basic necessities. There lists of things she could justify that she _needed_ and she doubt he would even notice how much money was gone if she took what she _needed_. However, she considered herself an honorable person. She couldn’t charge for services that she didn’t provide, and so far, the only thing that she had promised him was that she’d stay for eight hours.

 

With a sigh, she punched in sixteen-hundred dollars pressed enter and handed the card back to the man who was sitting across from her.

 

“I’m all yours,” she said draining her flute of champagne. “So, what is it that you want to do?”

 

Filthy images ran through Bruce’s mind as he examined the girl. He hadn’t thought about seriously taking her up on her offer, he didn’t usually give people money in expectation for sex. However, he was feeling slightly conflicted, as he was extremely attracted to the woman, but would feel guilty almost like he was taking advantage of her if her took her services. He decided if she offered he wouldn’t refuse, but he wouldn’t press her for it.

 

“You aren’t a bad person if you want to fuck me,” she pipes up suddenly. Her words surprised him. “I can see you thinking. I’m choosing to have sex with you and in return you give me money. It’s a transaction that happens millions of times a day.”

 

Bruce feels his chest tighten when he watches her place her glass on the table and began unzipping her boots. He swallowed thickly as she reveals her shapely legs.  She stands and removes her crop top revealing her bra.

 

“We can do whatever you want to do, I don’t mind,” she says as she places one leg on either side of him. She drops her face in front of his and stares into his lust filled darkening blue eyes. “Just no kissing on the lips.”

 

Bruce cocks an eyebrow at her strange request but he nods quickly when he feels her hips grind into his.  His hands find themselves attached to the exposed sides of her hips and he can feel her shiver with when his rough hand run over her soft skin.

 

Her arms drape around his neck and dip into the back of his shirt. He hast to stop himself from shuddering when he feels the point of her nails dig lightly into his skin.

 

“Can you follow that one rule?”

 

His blue eyes glanced into her curious ones he nods. She smiles when he does and dips her head into his neck where she began laying small kisses. It’s a small affection and but the heat of her body on his and the slight smacking that occurs each time she pulls her lips away have him becoming so sensitive that the entity of his skin feels like it’s on fire.

 

He begins to widen the placement of his feet and his hand find themselves moving from her hips to just under her thighs. He grips them tightly and she pulls back to look at him confusedly.

 

“What’s wr-” she starts but she doesn’t get a chance to finish as Bruce stands and brings her with him. Her legs lock around his waist and she uses her arms to pull herself closer to him.

 

She blinks up at him confused at his sudden desire to move.

 

“I’d rather not be stuck in a living room chair all night,” he says as he brings the both of them to the master bedroom.

 

She nods in understanding and resumes her ministrations as he walks.

 

When they’ve arrive to the bedroom, he quickly closes the door behind them. He places her on the bed and begins to unbutton his shirt. His throat tightens when he watches her peel her small skirt off her body, leaving her completely in her underwear.

 

She uses the head board to support her back and stretches her arms out to him.

 

“Hurry make the most out of your time, eight hours will come and go faster than you know it.”

 

There is a sinful smirk that paints itself on her pretty lips and his bourgeoning erection becomes almost painful, and he knows he’s going to take full advantage of everything he’s paid for.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping is fun!

You tended not to make sleeping at your client’s residences a habit. On the occasions that you did fall asleep, your internal clock made sure that you woke at least on hour later. Staying in unknown places was dangerous. Too many people tended to see people like you as less than, and wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of your societal anonymity.

 

However, something about this was different. As the white light of the newly risen sun hit the tops of your eyelids, you could barely bring yourself to wrench your eyes open. The sink of the plush mattress and the warmth of the blankets drooping silkily across your back. This felt different. Your slightly tired eyes opened and you observed the room around you and you realize that you are alone.

 

There is no indention or warmth, indicating that your partner had been anywhere near you. How long had he been gone? Leaning over the side of the bed you realize that your clothes are gone as well. Worriedly, your eyes begin to scan the room. They settle on a chair that has a fluffy white robe laid out with a pair of matching slippers, almost waiting for you.

 

Slipping off the side of the bed, you clutch the top sheet to your chest and make your way over to the chair. When you let, the sheet drop from your form to put on the robe, a shiver runs down your spine. You’d been so warm in the bed you’d forgotten that it was still the middle of winter. The minute the fabric of the touched your bare skin, you let out a hum at the feeling.

 

Slipping on the slippers, you walk over to the curtain covered windows and peek outside. Gotham is covered in snow and the morning sun that had woken you up just moments ago was hiding behind thick gray clouds.

 

It would be hell on the streets tonight. You could already feel the freezing air nipping at your thighs and how irritated your feet would be at the end of the night. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about the rent though. That meant you could use whatever money you made tonight and the next couple of weeks onward to by some food.

 

However, the first thing that you would need to do is find some clothes.

 

Padding over to the closed bedroom door, you press a lone ear to the door. You can’t hear a lot of activity from the other side, but these heavy well-made doors are unlikely to give you any clue if anyone is on the other side.

 

You hesitantly open the door and poke your head out. The hall seems bigger than it was last night, of course you were rather distracted when you came down this hall last, but that was beside the point.

 

Walking out into the living room of the suite you are surprised to see your partner sitting there at the large dining table reading the newspaper.

 

His keen ears pick up the sound of your feet and he turns to greet you.

“Good morning,” he says with a smile.

 

“Hi,” you say a quietly as a flush pricks at your cheeks. Most people aren’t usually happy you see you during the day.

 

“Breakfast?” He offers motioning to the spread sitting on the table.

 

You nod and make your way to the table. Gathering the food you want, you begin to make your way to the opposite side of the table.

 

“You don’t have to sit so far away,” he chuckles.

 

You look at him with wide eyes and relax as you left a small chuckle leave your lips. There is a nervous beat to your heart but you realize how silly you are being.

 

“Yeah, sorry I don’t know what is wrong with me,” you say with an apologetic tone.

 

He waves you off as you sit down.

 

He lets you eat. He doesn’t prod you with questions, like: ‘How was it for you?’ ‘Was I the Best you’ve ever had? ‘Did you have fun last night?’ You got those often, especially from older men who thought they were lacking in some way. You always told them what they wanted to hear, and it was rare that you meant what you said. Strangely, he does nothing of the sort. Aside from the occasional smile he tosses you when he catches you staring, he seems to have no intention of making you feel uncomfortable, or talking about last night.

 

It’s refreshing but strange. He’s not your usual clientele, it doesn’t seem like he wants something from you and that leaves you a little unsure of how to treat him. Is he still a client or is he an acquaintance you happen to know very intimately? Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth as you bite down on it, lost in your thoughts. You hadn’t been in this situation before, and you’re unsure how to proceed.

 

“Lost in your thoughts?” He questions snapping you out of your thoughts as he drinks from his coffee cup.

 

“Yes, actually,” you say with a smile of your own.

 

“Care to share?”

 

“You aren’t as…desperate as my other dates.”

 

“Desperate?”

 

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” you say with a chuckle recalling some of your more enthusiastic clients.

 

“You have a lovely smile,” he says coolly.

 

You look at him from underneath your eyelashes, examining him. What does he want? Why is he being so nice? But there is no hint in is eye that there is ulterior, it’s just a compliment.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Your welcome.”

 

It silent for another minute and you finish your breakfast. The comfortable silence is broken by the pining of his phone.

 

From your position, you can see it is a message that scrolls across his screen. Faintly, his lips pull down at the sides in a frown. Whatever message appearing clearly making him unhappy, but he seems to remember that you are there watching him as his jovial expression quickly returns to his features when he catches your eye.

 

“It seems that I’ll have the opportunity to make up for missing that benefit,” he says as a smirk curls across his lips. There is a mischievous look in his eyes and something about it lets you know that it’s out of character for him. But then again, it seemed hiring a sex worker was out of character so he must be doing a lot of strange things lately.

 

“That’s good,” you say with a shrug.

 

“I’ll need a date.”

 

Your large eyes take in his form, quickly catching on to his meaning. You fight the smile that wants to spread across your lips with a shake of your head. “I do my best work between the sheets not in the ballroom.”

 

“It’s not a ballroom.”

 

“And I’m a business woman, I don’t go out on either kind of date for free.”

 

“Never side I was going to compromise your business values.”

 

“You want to pay me?” You question looking at him questioningly. “Do you know how expensive that would be?”

 

“Do you know who I am?”

 

An incredulous chuckle forces its way out of your lips as the familiar statement rings through your ears.

 

“It’s still $1,600 for eight hours.”

 

“And for the week?”

 

You let out a gasp of surprise as he cockily observes your shocked form. “Twenty-Four hours a day?”

 

“Of course, I need you at my beck and call.”

 

“That’s over Thirty thousand dollars.”

 

“Don’t sell yourself short, that is Thirty-Three thousand dollars.”

 

You look at him incredulously, and you shake your head as you bite your lip. “Why are you doing this?”

 

“I like to help people,” he says plainly.

 

“More than help,” you respond.

 

“Have we come to an agreement then?”

 

“I suppose.”

 

“Good,” he says pushing back and standing from the table. He reaches into the pockets of his pants and he pulls wallet from the slacks. From the wallet, he removes that black card that you had used earlier and hands it you. You take it from him and look up at him confusedly. “Take your fee, and then use that to go buy some clothes. You’ll need at least one dress for dinner, tonight. Get some other things while you’re out too, it’s going to be a long week.”

 

“Tonight?”

 

“Yes,” he says with a smile. “I’ll be back at eight to pick you up, okay?”

 

“Okay?”

 

“Good.”

 

Like a storm, he makes his way to the door of the room and disappears. You’re left in the large room by yourself with all the money in the world sitting in your hand.

 

_‘Holy Shit!’_

***

“Pick Up Pick Up Pick Up,” you mutter into the receiver of your cellphone as you walk down the street. The streets on the wealthier side of Gotham were cleaner than what you were used to. The air was almost breathable here.

 

You had been calling Kayla since you’d left Bruce’s hotel, both worrying for her safety and hoping that she could offer you some comfort. Another thing that came with being in the wealthier part of Gotham was eyes. Eyes that had been fallowing you since you stepped out of the elevator into the lobby of the hotel this morning. They all belonged to different people, but all said the same things, shame.

 

You would have been foolish to think that nobody would look at you twice, your outfit was not exactly becoming of a Gotham socialite. When it was delivered to you this morning, washed and pressed, apparently by the will of your gracious host, you felt yourself grimace a little at the fabrics. The short skirt of your work outfit wasn’t something that you made a habit of wearing during the day, there was a difference between the work uniform and what you wore to interact with society. So, you naturally felt a little uncomfortable leaving this morning in such a skimpy outfit. Even with those caveats, you still would have thought the upper classes of society would have used all of those fancy manners that they were taught when it came to you. Of course, those fancy manners also meant that it was socially acceptable to shame someone like you, after all to them you weren’t part of their society.

 

“Heeellooo?” A familiar chipper voice answers.

 

“Kayla!” You exclaim into the phone drawing the eyes of some not so friendly passersby. “You made it home safely.”

 

“Yeah,” she said with a pop of her bubble gum. “What about you?”

 

“Um, I mean I’m safe,” you say with a shrug.

 

“You spend the night with that guy?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“He hurt you?”

 

“No.”

 

“You take his wallet?”

 

“No!”

 

“What?” She asks exasperated. “We need rent money.”

 

“And whose fault is that?” You question, bitterness flooding your tone.

 

“Look, kid, we all need to party sometimes, let loose. Maybe it wasn’t right to use the rent money, I get that, but I was really stressed out, you know. I needed to feel good.”

 

“Any more stress and your nose is going to fall off,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “Any way listen, I sent you some money. Go down to the bank, get a money order and pay the goddamn rent, alright?”

 

“Alright fine,” she hisses. “No need to be a bitch about it.”

 

“I’m only bitching because I want a place to come home to, Kayla.” You say with an exasperated tone.

 

“When are you coming home, huh? Why can’t you go to the bank?”

 

“I’m out making sure we don’t have to worry about rent for the rest of the year, that’s why.”

 

“Oh, so he’s loaded, huh? Picked up a big fish. Bet he’ll make you do something freaky. The rich ones always are like that.”

 

“Don’t talk about him like that,” You snap before you can stop yourself.

 

“Oh, feisty.” She teases. It not a friendly tone and its one she often uses when she’s coming down from her high. At least she’s sober, that way you’re sure that she’ll do what you ask. “He must have put in good work.”

 

“Just do what I ask, Kayla.”

 

“Alright, alright.”

 

“Good, I’ll see you in a few days.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

The click of the phone sends a lonely chill down your spine. It’s not what you wanted you wanted to hear when she answered. Is it wrong to enjoy someone more when they are high?

 

Shaking your head, you try to clear your head from such a negative thought, but as you walk down the street and the eyes fall on your back you can’t help but feel strange. Kayla wasn’t the type of person that would help herself even if you gave her the tools to do so. In fact, you didn’t think that she thought of anything more than what the two of you had. If it hadn’t been for her habit, the two of you would have defiantly been out of your rat hole months ago and in a proper two bedroom two bath apartment with proper heating for Gotham’s god awful winter. She was doing more than skimming from the stash of money you had hidden away though. Money that you had worked hard for. Money that you had put your life on the line for. Thinking of it now, if Bruce Wayne really did pay you Thirty-Thousand dollars, should you share it with her? That money could change your life, or at least move you into a safer, more stable location. Would that come to fruition if she had a say in how the money was spent? Probably not.

 

Your wandering feet come to a stop in front of one of the nicer boutiques in the area and you pause to look in the window. They seemed to have a large range of items, and they looked good enough to be seen out with someone like your employer. With a shrug, you walk into the store.

 

The warmth of the store is a welcome change from the cold air that had been nipping at your exposed thighs.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

You jump at the immediate attention and turn only to almost jump out of your skin at the sight. A blonde robot woman with a practiced humanoid smile, stares at you with unfeeling eyes.

 

“Uh, yes I need some clothes,” you offer suddenly aware that the eyes of all the employees are on you. “Fancy clothes.”

 

The woman in front of you doesn’t miss a beat as her eyes rake up and down your form, “We don’t carry your size.”

 

“What?” You question incredulously. “That’s ridiculous, you don’t even know my size, and the sign says full range.”

 

“Let me be clear,” she says clearing her throat. “None of these stores will have anything that will fit you.  No one caters to trash on this street, so please leave. Your scaring the customers.”

 

It stings more than you thought it would. You should have been expecting it, ready for such harsh words, but it still felt like a gut punch. You blink back tears as you look for help from any of the other customers in the store for help, but every time you meet someone’s eye they look away from you.

 

Wordlessly you back out of the store, and are back out into the biting cold. You get ready to walk away, but something stops you. As the first of your tears begins to stream down your cheeks you quickly lift your hand to wipe at your cheeks.

 

You look into the store and the woman and her colleagues are still staring at you, waiting for you to leave their storefront.

 

Your jaw sets and your nostrils flare in irritation. A fire burns in your belly and you straighten your spine and walk back into the store.

 

The clerk pounces, as soon as you cross the threshold. “I told you-”

 

“Listen, cunt,” the word choice stuns even you but the wide-eyed look she gives you urges you to continue your building tirade. “I came in here to spend a shit ton of money that my date gave me, and you’re about to lose out on that. I know what I am and I know what I look like but unlike you I don’t pretend to be something I’m not. I’ve got you pegged.”

 

You take a step back from her and eye her uniform, from the top of her head down to her shoes. “That hair clip looks fancy but it’s from the dollar general, those penny loafers are from Wal-Mart, and I’m betting the only reason that uniform looks good is because they provide it for you. You want to pretend you’re better than me, but I can tell your one missed paycheck from living down the street from me, and when that happens, don’t think that any of your _distinguished_ clientele will be there to help you.”

 

A stunned silence hangs over the shop. She opens her mouth to respond but you stop her, “The only thing that I want to here is that you you’ve got a fitting room ready for me and that you’re going to bring me the nicest shit in here, because I’m about to spend enough money to send your two kids to college.”

 

There is a long pause. Her eyes shift to the workers around her and then her customers and she bites at her lip. “Right this way, ma’am”

 

***

Its 7:59. In a minute he’ll call you and you’ll go down stairs and hopefully you live up to his standard. You weren’t worried about anyone else more than you were worried about his opinion.

 

You can’t breathe. It’s not the dress. The dress clings to you tightly but it fits you like a glove and its perfect. The matching shoes make it even better. You don’t doubt that you look good, at least by your standards. You’re concerned that he may think that your dress is too short. It stops right above your knees, and the ladies at the store had begrudgingly admitted that not only had the garment suited you but that it would be more than appropriate for any type of gala or dinner that Bruce would be taking you to.

 

The rings on your fingers clink against each other, and they remind you how much money you spent. You had rationalized the expense as being necessary because they came with the outfit but as the anticipation eats at you, you can’t help but wonder if he will be upset with your little spree.

 

The shrill hotel phone rings and breaks you out of your thoughts. Your eye shift to the clock, 8:01. It’s time.

***

He’d never seen an angel before, but he imagines that she more than rivaled one.  As she walked into the lounge where he was waiting, he almost felt his heart stop. She was almost unrecognizable. The first clue that gave it away was the familiar glossy nature of her hair.  Her wide doe like eyes search for him desperately and he has to fight the smile and urge to tease her that arises. It’s startling how innocent she looks, especially since he has the nail marks on his back to prove that she wasn’t. She meets his gaze and she seems to light up. His breath clenches in his chest as the silver of her dress catches the light of the room. The pencil skirted cocktail dress is conservative enough that it was more than appropriate for dinner they would be going to, but the curves of her body made it more sinful than it should have been.

 

Maybe he shouldn’t take her. He has a strong urge to grab her by the wrist and pull her back up to his room and keep her there, but he fights it. Her long legs accentuated by the silver close-toed heels she’s wear, make it hard to maintain his resolve.

 

She approaches him with an almost hopeful gaze, waiting for him to give his stamp of approval. Her lips part in disappointment when he doesn’t immediately answer the unasked question. Before she can let her eyes flicker down to the ground in shame, his hand is on her cheek and his thumb rests on the edge of her full lower lip.

 

“You’re Stunning.”


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew parties thrown by rich people would be so boring?

“You don’t look like you’re having a good time,” he whispers in your ear, using the arm wrapped around your waist to pull you closer.

“Is this supposed to be fun,” you playfully bite back, causing a chuckle to arise from your date.

“Some people may find it enjoyable,” he responds with a shrug.

He dips his head at a couple who is trying to hide their excitement at seeing him, you swear you almost hear them swoon when he flashes them one of his heart stopping smiles. You almost let out a chuckle at the occurrence, it had to be roughly the third or fourth time that it had happened since you arrived. From the minute, his foot stepped into the venue, the party seemed to revolve around him, and it was an amazing sight to behold. Normally, you would have felt slightly intimidated by the attention, something about the grip that he maintained about your waist made you feel comfortable, like you were supposed to be there. A feeling that you relished experiencing especially after your ordeal in the boutique earlier in the day.

“All everyone is doing is standing around talking,” you say with a slight pout. “I thought it would be at least more party like.”

“I have a feeling your definition of partying is slightly different than what everyone else would have in mind.”

You playfully elbow him in the ribs, and while he jumps slightly at the contact a part of you feels like he barely even felt your touch.

“Don’t paint me as some sort of werido.”

“Don’t worry about it too much, I’m weird too.”

The flirtation makes you giggle slightly, causing a rather adoring look to come over his face.

“Your corny jokes don’t change the fact that this is the most boring party.”

“We just got here, it takes a couple hours for them to bring out the good stuff, they’ll get a little tipsy the bidding will start and I guarantee you you’ll see something fun.”

“And what am I supposed to do until things get fun.”

His eyes leave yours for a minute glancing toward the unoccupied dance floor.

“I supposed we could liven this place up just a little bit.”

He sweeps you to the dance floor, so quickly you almost trip over your feet, but you quickly fall into rhythm. Reflexively your arms got to drape around his neck, but with a shake of his head and a little chuckle, he adjusts them accordingly.

“This feels weird,” you say looking at the way he is holds your hands away from your bodies as the both of you begin to move across the dancefloor.

“You’ll get used to it,” he says with a hum.

Your eyes are slightly wide at the implication and he flashes you another blush inducing smile. Shyly, you move your gaze away from his blue orbs. Unconsciously you begin to scan the faces of the party goers. It’s then you noticed how much attention is being paid to your dance. Curious eyes run up and down your form and occasionally someone will dip into their partner and whisper. You feel slightly exposed with all of the gossiping. Could they tell what you were? That you shouldn’t be here with someone like him?

You’d hoped that the change of clothes, the makeup, and your straight posture would keep you from being exposed, but it felt like the moment he moved away from you, you’d be exposed. There would be no more hiding.

Your thoughts manifest in you pressing yourself slightly closer to the man.

He looks down at you, eyes slightly softening at your distress. Your eyes are flickering back and forth over you audience as a pouty frown pulls works its way over your lips. As cute as it is, the display of nervousness causes him to worry. He forgets that not everyone can disregard the disapproving looks of these vultures the way that he does. Maybe he should do something bold.

“Hey,” He murmurs causing you to snap your eyes back to him.

You cock your head to the side as he gives a wry smile.

“What?”

The warmth of his hand in your is suddenly missing as the large appendage comes to rest on your cheek. Gently he pulls your head up to his and lips press against yours. The sudden pressure leaves you wide-eyed and blinking, and you aren’t the only one that is taken aback by the sudden show of affection, as a slightly audible gasp rings through your ears.

As you begin to relax and kiss back he begins to pull away, “Don’t worry about them.”

With a slightly dazed look you nod, embarrassment is still present, but nervousness gone.

As you continue to sway to the rhythm you barely notice that other couples begin join you on the dancefloor, after all, if dancing is good enough for Bruce Wayne surely it was good enough for them.

“Quiet a showing Wayne, you’ll have these gossips talking about you for a month,” A smooth voice comments, causing the both of you to stop your swaying in the middle of the dancefloor. Bruce casts a glance over his shoulder and when his eyes land on the commenting figure, you can see his jaw set in slight annoyance, before a practiced smile works its way over his face. From your position, you can only see the top of a dark mop of hair, but you can hear the smugness in the tone of voice.

“Yes, well I couldn’t resist.”

Bruce finally turns to face the voice. A tall, thin man stands there with a smug smile. His arm dangles limply on the back of his young date, who’s wearing a lavender empire-waist gown. Her dark eyes avert from Bruce’s to yours and she sends you a small smile. You send her one back.

“I can see that,” the man responds. There is an unhidden lust in his voice, one that you were used to hearing. Usually it wouldn’t have bothered you, it usually meant that you’d landed another customer, but it doesn’t feel good tonight, not when you had tried so hard to hide who you were. “She’s ravishing, Bruce.”

“ _She_ says thank you,” you say with a tight smile, snide lacing your town.

He raises a dark eyebrow and cocks his head with interest. His eyes flicker to Bruce, questioning gaze still present. As if to say, ‘You let her speak?’

Bruce doesn’t take the bait though and instead shifts his focus to the woman on his arm, “You’re looking well Charlotte.”

‘Charlotte’ reddens when he pronounces her name. An adorable smile lights up her slight chubby cheeked face, “Thank you Mr. Wayne. It’s been awhile since I had an excuse to dress up, the last time was Prom, I think.”

Her eyes absentmindedly look up, as if the answer to her question would be somewhere on the ceiling. It’s then you realize how young the girl is, she couldn’t be older than eighteen, fresh out of high school.

 A scowl works its way onto your face, nose scrunching in distaste as your gaze turns back to the yet to be named man.  You’d be a hypocrite to say that she’s too young to be with this guy, after all some might say you were too young when you started your current profession. However, your immediate distaste for the man was making you warier than you probably would have been otherwise.

“Ah, that’s right,” Bruce says with a nod of his head. “Your mother showed me pictures, but I don’t recall Sebastian being in them.”

Sebastian grunts slightly, “That’s right, unfortunately her shortsighted mother didn’t think it was appropriate for me to escort her.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you mutter. Bruce seems to be the only one that hears you, judging from the gentle squeeze that he gives your waist.

“That’s a bit rude don’t you think?”  Bruce questions inclining his head to the young girl that looks slightly embarrassed. “I imagine not many people enjoy having their parents talked about in such a rude manner.

“It’s fine, Mr. Wayne, Really,” Charlotte starts. “He’s right.”

“Of course, I am,” Sebastian says with a scuff. “I understand Bruce, you’re close to them but this isn’t about friendship, it’s about business.”

“Business?” You ask curiously.

“Show her, my dear.”

The pale girl holds up her left hand, a large diamond sits perched on a white-gold band, snuggly fit around her small ring finger.

“It would have been a marvelous, opportunity to have the two of us come out together. Show the world the unification of our two industries.”

Your mind replays the words in your head, trying to understand what exactly is being told to you. Your eyes flicker up to examine the visage of your companion, only to see a frown pulling at his lips, showing that he was more than likely just as disturbed as you were.

“An arranged marriage?” You question.

“That’s such a loaded and archaic term, my dear, but I supposed there is no better one to describe our agreement,” Sebastian says with an airy sigh. Charlotte gives you a sheepish smile.

You feel your jaw tighten in irritation and you find yourself forcefully pushing air out of your nose. Did people still actually do this? Sell their daughters like cattle? Maybe the rich weren’t so special after all.

“Silly me,” Sebastian starts. “I’ve had this conversation revolve completely around Charlotte and I, when my intent was to get to know the rare beauty you’ve brought tonight. Bruce, don’t be rude, introduce us.”

Your eyes cut to your partner as a pang of nervousness runs through chest. Should you have come up with a fake name? A fake family? Surely at least some fancy job tittle that would warrant you being here with him.

Bruce is calm, though, most likely having practiced bullshitting for a larger part of his life, he gives your name and simply introduces you as “The most beautiful woman in the room.”

Sebastian rakes his eyes over your frame once again and an unsatisfied smirk crosses his face, “Well she certainly is something.”

“I agree, I can’t imagine how lonely I’d be if she hadn’t agreed to be my date tonight, can you believe she almost turned me down,” Bruce says with a chuckle.

“Are you sure you sure she just didn’t say yes out of pity, Mr. Wayne,” Charlotte says playfully.

“Oh, it’s definitely a pity date,” you say with a wink, enjoying the way the young girl’s cheeks puff with laughter.

Sebastian isn’t keen on the joking though. He’s too busy examining you. Not in a particularly lustful way, the way he had been when he first approached you, but as if he is trying to figure you out. His dark eyes narrow as he lingers on your face.

“You seem familiar,” he starts, “But I don’t remember hearing your family name before, what is it that they do.”

You pause for a moment, eyes running over the man’s face. You are more than positive that you have no idea that this guy is, that you hadn’t seen him before today. Why would he think that he’s seen you?

“I’m not sure we have met,”you  start smoothly, Bruce wasn’t the only one who was a good bull-shitter. “And my parents aren’t anything special, played well in the stock markets and presto here I am.”

“Ah, Nuevo Riche, how quaint.”

There is slight disdain in his tone that irritates you and leaves you offended for your fake parents, but before you have the opportunity the respond a clanging of glass brings you to attention. The quiet music of the party is muted and there is a woman standing on one of the raised platforms.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I hope you’ve brought your check books,” she starts looking over the crowd casting a particularly lingering gaze on to your date. “Tonight, if everyone participates, we may break a record and actually end world hunger.”

It’s a strange joke that appears to go over well with this strange group as a melodious round of chuckles run through the room.

The curtains that paint the stage behind her are drawn open, and many different objects are revealed. Antiques they seem to be, all having belonged to the settlers of Gotham. The woman makes a strange comment about not being able to items from all the founding families, which causes Bruce to chuckle, but she begins the auction anyway.

“Are you going to by something?” You question.

“I’m required,” he says with a sigh. “Did you see that look she gave me? If I don’t participate she kill me.”

“I doubt she could touch you,” you say with a chuckle.

“It’s the eyes, they’re like laser beams, they’ll get you every time.”

Your eyes trace the objects on display, wondering if there is anything that you should bid on. After all, you have more than enough to splurge on a gift for yourself now. Dropping a few hundred on an old piece of jewelry.

“See something?” He murmurs into your ear. You jump slightly startled and then give a sheepish smile.

“Not yet,” you say with a smile.

Your eyes scan the display, eyes landing on a faded gold jewelry box. From what you could see, it was wonderfully intricate. The outside looking like the inside of a clock, metal twisting and bending to form and beautiful box. You realize that the box isn’t made of gold, but brass. White pearls decorate the outside of the box, forming the shape of what looks to be a rose. It’s beautiful and you want it.

Bruce sees your gaze, sees the childlike excitement that runs over you face. Something in him feels warm, makes him happy. He wants to see that look on your face all the time, you deserve it. However as quickly as it comes the look slips form your face and it only takes a moment for him to realize why.

“Twenty-Thousand, Can I here Thirty?” The shrill voice of the auctioneer shouts out over the crowd.

“Forty!”

“FIFTY!”

The price continues to go up from there and quickly your hopes are dashed. They are betting over a vase. There is nothing special about the vase aside from its age and condition and you begin to realize that once someone catches a glimpse of the box like you had, it would be over.

You light out a sigh, feeling a slightly bitter feeling overwhelming you, a sort of childish jealousy that you weren’t used to.

“Is there a bathroom around here?” You mutter to yourself, not wanting to watch as someone else won the prize you wanted.

“Want to go together?” a kind voice asks.

You catch the slightly shy gaze of Charlotte, and blinking slightly startled, you realize she heard you.  You quickly regain your composure and you nod your head with a smile.

You turn to give Bruce an “I’ll be back,” but he seemed to get the gist of your conversation and with a wink and a nod he sends you away.

Your slightly surprised when the young girl loops her arm through yours and hurriedly pulls you through to the bathroom.

There is a faint lavender sent the finds its way to your nose as you walk into the rather plush room. It’s the first time you had ever been into a building whose restroom actually has a _rest_ room. You find your plopping down on one of the bright white couches. Letting out a stressed sigh as you relax for the first time this evening.

“I need a cigarette,” you mumble slightly throwing your head back.

A slight chuckle pulls you out of your reverie and your attention is called to the baby-faced girl.

“What?” You question.

“You aren’t like the other girls I’ve seen Bru- I mean Mr. Wayne date,” she says with a warm smile. “It’s nice.”

“Thanks?” You say with a slightly raised eyebrow.

“It’s just, they usually aren’t so…normal? I guess normal is the right term. From a mile away you can tell they usually just want something from him. You don’t seem that way.”

You give her a small smile, guilt pooling in your belly. Maybe it seemed that way because you had already got what you wanted from him?

“How do you know Bruce?” You question, wanting to change the subject.

“Business mostly, my parents and his used to work together, so technically our families have known each other for a long time.”

“Why do you call him Mr. Wayne then?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Sebastian says I shouldn’t call any man but him by their first name.”

The moment you hear the words anger flares up inside of you, “Do you want me to kick his ass?”

“W-what?” She asked flabbergasted.

“Look I don’t know what the hell is going on with your family or why they think that it’s cool to treat you like we’re in some 17th century period drama, but even you have got to see that whatever relationship you have with that guy is going to be nothing but shitty.”

“He’s not that bad,” she tries.

“Honey, you don’t have to lie to me, I can see it. I know what guys like him do to girls like you. They do it on purpose because they think your weak that you can’t protect yourself, that you can’t protect yourself. Because they are weak themselves. You don’t want to let it get that far.”

“It’s not up to me, though,” She reasons. “My parents.”

“Who gives a flying fuck about your parents?” You hiss. “This about you, your safety, your life.”

“I suppose I could talk to my mom about it, she seems receptive.”

“Don’t talk, demand! Tell your mom that you aren’t going to become a doormat. That if you marry him, you’ll be miserable, you’ll be an old wrinkly bitter bitch that gives kids prunes on Halloween instead of candy. No mom wants to see a kid that miserable.”

She stares at you for a second, unmoving, unblinking, before she turns red with laughter, cheeks full of mirth. “You really aren’t like any of the other girls he’s dated.”

“Eh, maybe I just have a little more experience with assholes than they did.”

Its silent for a moment as you close your eyes and relax from the strain of having to deal with the people around you and she contemplates her next actions.

“How long do you think that auction thing is going to go on?” You ask.

“Not too much longer. Once they get on a roll the items tend to go fast.”

“But I have enough time to get a martini or two, right?”

“Sure,” she says with a nod.

“Let’s get you something too,” you say standing and straightening out your dress. “You probably need it.”

“I’m not old enough,” she protests.

“Age?”

“18, but I’ll be 19 in a few months.”

“Old enough to have some spiked punch,” you say with wink.

She stares at you, excitement filling her eyes. The two of you peek your heads out of the bathroom. Her glance lands on her date and when she realizes that he isn’t looking she begins to follow you to the bar.

***

“It was nice seeing you again, Wayne. We’ll have to get lunch sometime to discuss business.”

“Of course,” Bruce responds rather stiffly. He gives Sebastian a long too-firm hand shake, one that causes the man to wince. He also gives the man a rather harsh slap to the shoulder, finishing with tight squeeze. Is it your imagination, or are his fingers moving strangely? Is there something on Sebastian’s collar that you can’t see?

“Take care of Charlotte, she’s like family to me.”

Sebastian gives a nod but he doesn’t verbally respond, and if you aren’t mistaken, you can swear that there are tears in his eyes. Sebastian can barely meet your gaze and opts to simply nod his head at you in goodbye. Like the true gentlemen he is, begins to walk away leaving his date behind.

“It was nice to see you again, Mr.- I mean, Bruce” Charlotte says with a bright smile. “When I tell mom that I saw you she’s definitely going to want you guys to come over for dinner.”

“I’d be more than glad to go, but I’m not sure how my date feels about that.”

You want to curse him for putting you on the spot like that. Your cast him a rather sharp gaze, hoping every little bit of anger shines through your gaze. You give the chubby cheeked girl a friendly smile.

“Of course, I- we’ll have dinner,” you say with a strained smile as the lie tumbles through your teeth.

She claps her hands together excitedly as girlish squeal oozes from her lips, “I’ll have mother call Alfred and we’ll set everything up.”

“Charlotte!”

her face falls at her name being called but she perks back up quickly, “I have to go now.”

She begins to walk away but stops and turns to look at you with rather determined eyes, “I promise I won’t become bitter bitch!”

A snort forces its way through you nose as you have stifle your laughter and surprise.

Bruce flashes you a strange look and you give him a rather sheepish one in return, “I was trying to build her confidence.”

“Her mother is going to write me letters about how I turned her into a heathen if she hears her talking like that,” he says as he uses his arm to wrap around your waist. The intent was to pull you closer and maneuver the pair of you to the sleek vehicle waiting for you on the curb. You allow him to take you to the vehicle but stop him before he opens the door. Quickly, you pull yourself away from him.

“What’s wrong?” He asks with a furrowed brow.

“I-” you start, but find the words hard to come out as they are stifled in your throat.

“Tell me,” he persuades moving closer to you.

Your fist comes up to act as a barrier between you, but you wished you hadn’t touched him. Even through the fabric of his tux you can feel the muscles of his abdomen contract and expand with his breathing.  Almost instantly you feel flashes of his body on top of yours run through your mind and they cause you to bite your bottom lip in irritation. How were you going to tell him this when all you could think about was how good he made you feel?

“I don’t need to be saved, Bruce,” You say after a brief pause. His blue eyes look rather shocked.

“What do you mean?”

“You ever hear the expression ‘You can’t make a whore into a housewife?’”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

“I’m not,” you say waving him off. “But I do make a living doing things that are distasteful to polite society in order to survive. And I have for as long as I can remember. I’ve made peace with what my life is going to be like. I’m fine with it. And when this week is over I get to go back to that life and you get to go back to be you, to your life.”

“I-”

“So, we can’t make promises that I’m going to be somewhere, when I’m not. That I’m going to go to dinner or be at a party, when I won’t be there. Next week you’ll have a girl on your arm who looks like she belongs there and doesn’t have to cuss out a sales manager just to get a nice dress.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Yes, it does Bruce. What are you going to do? Pay me to fuck only you the rest of my life? How is that different than what I do now?”

He doesn’t answer and you don’t know if you could read those stormy blue eyes even if you wanted to.

“At the end of the day,” you start with a sigh. “All of this is just temporary for me. I don’t get to be a Charlotte, a Sebastian, or a Bruce Wayne. I get to be me.  And just me will get boring someday and I’ll be back where I started. I’d rather us not do that whole song and dance and carry out our contract, the way we agreed to it.”

“I wouldn’t do that you,” he says rather softly.

“You all do it,” you say with a smile. “You aren’t the first rich guy I’ve had, just the first willing to be seen in daylight with me.”

“Is that really what you want then? For us to just end it?” As he says this he takes the opportunity to take your chin between his large fingers and thumb gently rubs against your bottom lip.

You try to think clearly, make sure your thoughts are well organized before you speak. But the heat that floods your cheeks from just his touch is annoyingly and mind numbingly distracting.

“I-“

“Excuse me, Mr. Wayne,” You’re cut off by a young valet who is looking at the pair of you rather nervously. The intimate position causing him to avert his eyes slightly. “Other cars have to be picked up, sir.”

“I understand,” Bruce says not breaking eye contact with you. “We’re leaving.”

The two of you find yourself in the car, silence filling the vehicle. Your words were replaying through your mind and regret pools into your belly. Should have you been honest with him? Told him that when he touches you can barely think, that you didn’t want the week to be over.

You bite down on your tongue, to keep yourself from blurting it out. It would be stupid to do so. Stupid to get your hopes up. Kayla had taught you long ago, not to put your heart into your business, you’d only end up fucked up the way that she had.

An image of your friend flashes through your mind and like usual, you are overcome with worry.

“Can you do me a favor?” You start voice small. You know he’s probably angry with you. In your experience, men often get angry when they are told no.

But to your surprise his voice is rather gentle, “Anything.”

“Can you take me by my apartment? I want to check on my roommate.”

“Of course.”

***

If you’re honest, you expected to be a little more embarrassed when he pulls up in front of your apartment.  For an anxiety to run to through your system, but it doesn’t happen.

“I’ll be out in ten,” you told him. And he had cast you a worried glance, but you wave him off. You know this street better than anyone, and the people around here know you.  They also know that if you’re in danger you are more than likely to use the heel of a shoe to puncture someone in the throat.

The damp smell of mold assaults you nose as you walk past the lobby. For some reason you can’t but chuckle, contrasting the experience of walking into the lobby of Bruce’s hotel. It was night and day.

Your carefully work your way up the couple of flights of stairs to get to your floor. The stairs were dangerous most days, but in heels even more so.

You finally make it to your floor and you’re a little winded by the time you get up there. As you begin to wobble to door you realize how much noise you were making. Your neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, pokes her face out of her door, glaring slightly at you. You give her a shy smile and a wave and she rolls her eyes when she sees that it’s you.

She doesn’t say anything to you as her gaze turned pitting. She flashes dark eyes at your door and then back at you. You follow her gaze and your eyes go wide at the sight. The bright flash of hot pink sends you into a panic and your slow labored steps are suddenly turned into a jog to the hallway.

Tears rush to your eyes as your suspicions are confirmed, it’s an eviction notice.

“She had about thirty people in there today, dear. It was loud and you know how he feels about that. What the rules are.”

Mrs. Jenkins words provide all the context you need. Kayla had violated the rules of your lease, likely spending the money you sent to her to host her friends. Now the both of you would have to leave.

Anger pulses through you, rage engulfs you. Could she not keep her nose clean for a second? Why couldn’t she see beyond the immediacy of today?

You press your forehead rather exasperatedly against the cool wood of your door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. Going in there and yelling wouldn’t help anything, and made certain that your eviction was certain, especially if your landlord heard you.

“Thank you for telling me, Mrs. Jenkins.” You try to say it with a chipper inflection but it only comes out like disgruntled moan.

You can almost feel her hesitation, “You can’t save them all, dear.”

Your eyes snap to the older woman and she gives you a pitying gaze. You want to retort, snap that you aren’t trying to save her, that this is just what good friends do. The words, however, don’t spill forth from your lips, and part of you knows that if you said anything it would come out in a pitiful unconvincing tone.

When she closes her door, you begin to turn the nob of your apartment. As you press open the door, your stopped as the door hits an obstruction. With a sigh, you press you face against the opening and look down. A distasteful frown twists on to your face as spy a naked body slumbering behind your door, remnants of the party that Mrs. Jenkins mentioned.

You brace yourself against the door and begin to press against the door, pushing the body and the door open. A groan leaves the incapacitated body but there is no other indication that the person is awake. A few more bodies littler the floor and you work your way through them, not nearly as many Mrs. Jenkins said, but you imagined that most of the party had left.

Your living room is full of strangers, some with limbs still entwined. The thought of strangers fucking on your couch makes your scowl and your anger is renewed.

You open the door to Kayla’s bedroom, and again strangers present. A pair of them passed out, more clothed than the others, but bottoms still removed. Kayla is not here and thump that runs through your ears feels you with dread, it’s coming from your room.

Your footsteps are decisive and you open your bedroom door with a thud. Platinum blonde hair swishes in the air as a topless Kayla turns to look at you startled.

“H-hey, girl,” she says rather hazily.

Her eyes are glazed over, swollen and red a wistful smile on her face. Her skin is slick with sweat causing her hair to stick to her forehead with sweat and her makeup to smear.

She’s in the middle of your bed, straddling a passed-out man. From your position, you can see the white powder organized in straight white lines rising and falling on his chest.

“You look fancy,” she says with a wink. There is a sway to her body as she begins to remove her body from on top of her companion. She wobbles her way to you, smoothing down her short jean skirt and running a shaky hand through her filthy hair.

She presses herself against you wrapping her arms around you quickly patting your back. The scent of dirt and day-old perfume fills you nose and you have to control your gag reflex.

She pulls back and looks at you with excited wide eyes, “Look at you, look what he’s got you in. You must’ve put it on him good.”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond as she pushes past you, into the hallway. You cast a glance back to the man on the bed, still passed out. Your eyes wonder across your room, and you realize that there is nothing in this room that you want. Nothing about this life that you want. That you’re done.

When you return to the hallway she’s in the kitchen, flittering around.

“So how much did you make, because you know we have to pay rent,” she says with tooth grin.

Your throat tightens with irritation and you shake your head, “I gave you rent money, Kayla.”

“W-well yeah but, you know, we need more,” she says as a hand finds its way to her nose and quickly pinches at it, likely to soothe an itch.

“We’ve been evicted, Kayla,” You say smoothly.

“W-what,” she says shock running over her features. “He can’t do that, we’re good tenants, we pay. We should sue!”

“You violated the rules with this Kayla,” You say motioning to the room around you. It feels like your talking to a child. She doesn’t seem to understand what you’re saying. How her actions could have been the cause of you losing your home.

“It was just party!”

It’s a childish reaction, she even stomps her foot and crosses her arms. It’s in that moment that you know, you have to leave. That even if you wanted yell at her and tell what she’s doing wrong. Doing it right now won’t accomplish anything.

You walk into the kitchen and grab her rather forcefully around her arms. She looks at you, eyes looking at you rather ruefully, lips parted in surprise.

“I love you, Kayla,” you say and press your lips to her forehead.

You let go of her and walk out. She calls to you and when you don’t respond, turn around, or stop. She calls to you again, panic filling her voice, as she begins to realize that something is wrong. That you’re angry, and that you’re leaving her.

“Where are you going?!” She shrieks from the doorway of your apartment as you make your way down the stairs. Despite her panic she knows not to follow you. That there wouldn’t be any point.

When the cold of the street hits your shoulders as you exit the building you can’t help but turn back and smile sadly. A part of you knows you won’t be coming back here again.

You make your way back in to the sleek vehicle that’s waiting for you.

You sit in silence for a moment, the rush of your decisions falling over you. You expected to feel bad, but you don’t. There is a relief that washes over you. Knowing that no matter what happens when this week is over, you won’t be going back to your old life.

“Was she okay?” A concerned voice asks. Your eyes flicker up and meet Bruce’s.

“No, she’s not.”

He pauses and looks you over, brow furrowing before relaxing again, “Are you okay?”

“I will be.”

He nods his head in response and then turns the key in the ignition. The engine of the car roars to life before dying down into a quiet purr.

The pair of you ride in silence, watching the lights go by. It’s a comforting sight, you always enjoyed watching the city lights.

After few more quiet moments, Bruce speaks. “I hope you don’t mind, but we aren’t going back to the hotel.”

Normally if anyone where to say that to you, you would panic, but not with him, “Why?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I get homesick easily?”

“No,” you say with slight chuckle.

“I have some work that I have to do,” he says honestly, “and I can’t do it at the hotel.”

“Okay,” you say. “But I left my stuff in the room.”

“Don’t worry, I already sent Alfred for it.”

 “Who’s Alfred?”

***

You should have expected this, but you’re in awe of the sheer size of it. Wayne Manor was almost annoyingly huge, as was the room that you were given. Well-furnished and plush, the room screamed of luxury. And true to his word, your clothes had been already packed away into the closet that was provided for you.

You stand in front of the large window looking out. You were sure it was a lovely view, but being that it was in the early hours in the morning, the normal green of the estate looked like a blue-black sea of distorted shapes.

“Is it to your liking, miss?”

The accented voice causes you to jump and you turn to see the butler you were introduced to.

“Yeah, thank you for this.”

“You are most welcome. Now if you don’t need anything, I shall take my leave.”

“No, yeah do whatever it is that you have to do.”

He gives you a polite smile and exits the room.

When he’s gone you find yourself falling onto the bed, exhausted. The bed is soft and almost instantly the mattress seems to curl around you. And a part of you wants to relax but you can’t. There is a part of you that realizes that you don’t want to be alone.

Luckily there is a knock on the door that appears to want to save you from the loneliness. You stand from the bed and open the door. Bruce, as you expected, is on the other side. He seems to be more relaxed, having removed his tux jacket and the unbuttoned the first buttons of his white shirt.

“Can I come in?” He asks.

You look up into his eyes and you know that if you let him, he probably won’t leave until day light.

You step aside and he walks in.

He walks in the middle of the room and he looks around as if he is just as impressed by it.

“I don’t remember the last time someone was in this room. It’s been a while since we’ve had guests. Do you like it?”

“It’s nice.” You say with a shrug, “A little too big for my taste. But that might just because I’m so used to having a roommate.”

A look comes over his face and he opens his mouth to say something, but pauses, as if he’s catching himself. Then he starts again, “I could find somewhere smaller, if it bothers you.”

“It’s just temporary I can deal with it.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

You pause and look at the man with a shake of your head, “Bruce we already talked about this.”

“I don’t want to change you,” he said taking long strides toward you. He lifts a hand to rest on your cheek and you almost find yourself leaning into it. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

“Don’t do this,” you plead hand coming up to rest on his larger one. “Don’t get my hopes up.”

“Let me do this.”

It’s a heavy comment, loaded with different meanings. If you surrendered to him, and allowed him to do what he wanted, how would your relationship change? Despite the fact that they were technically employer and employee, it had been by your own choice to engage in such away. Allowing him to do what he was proposing would change things, leave you dependent on him and his whims. And that could lead to more pain then you were ready to deal with.

Simultaneously, as you were lost in your thoughts, his other hand had wrapped itself around your waist and was pulling you closer, and the warmth of his body was just as intoxicating as it had been the night before. The proximity causes you to swallow rather thickly and you find yourself questioning your own resistance to the man.

The hand on your cheek runs its way from your cheek to lace itself in your hair and slightly pulls on your hair and leaves your head angling up at him.

“May I?” He asks voice husky and eyes laced with lust.

You nod slightly and are descended upon. His mouth on yours devours the slight moan of pleasure the hovers low in your throat as his other hand runs from your waist and down to your thigh. Digging into the flesh there, he lifts it to wrap around his waist and then quickly switches hands to do the same thing to the adjoining leg.

Accordingly, your arms come to rest around his neck anchoring yourself to him as he walks the two of you over to the large bed that sits in the middle of the room.

Your back hits the mattress rather roughly and he is quickly on top of you. Almost as a reflex your legs spread to allow his large frame to rest in between them. At the quick movement, the tight skirt of your dress rips.

“Sorry,” you mumble looking at him.

He lets out a chuckle as he presses a sweet kiss to your lips, “I was going to rip it anyway.”

And as if to prove a point, takes the ripped fabric and tears it away from your body. He presses his hips against yours and rocks his hips into yours leaning into you as a moan is forced from your lungs.

His hand comes up to slip between the two of you resting on the band of your panties. Teasingly he begins to pull at them.

“Are you going to let me?”

It’s the same loaded question he asked earlier and you bite your lip. Perhaps the idea of being pleasured was clouding your judgement. Maybe you actually did want him to “save” you. You don’t know. It’ll be something you’ll deal with in the morning, morning, after all, is the time to deal with regrets.

Eyes slightly hooded you give him a consenting nod and his body drapes over you. As his fingers begin to press against you, your eyes close and for tonight, you give into him.

 

***

He wonders if it’s the sun that is making her glow, or if it’s her natural beauty, either way he finds that he can’t keep his eyes off of her. She looks smaller when she sleeps, vulnerable.  The slightly airy sighs that leave her parted lips and the hand that rests on the large expanse of his chest seems even smaller than it does when she was awake. A protective instinct flows out of him and he knows it’s wrong the minute it washes over him. You can’t force someone to be saved if they don’t want to be. You can’t force a person to be who you want them to be. Looking at her now though, her smaller form curled against his larger one, sleeping so innocently, he realizes how much he doesn’t want the week to end. Not simply for her protection, but because he doesn’t know if he could live with himself if he let her go back to whatever her old life had been.

There is a knock on the door, that causes him to jump slightly. At his movement, she rolls away from him, a disgruntled noise leaving her lips at the disturbance. He chuckles at her actions and then carefully removes himself from the bed.

He pulls on the pants from his tuxedo and makes his way to the door. Quickly and quietly, he opens and closes the door. Not surprised to see Alfred waiting there for him, a cardboard box in hand.

“Late night, sir?” Alfred questions.

Bruce isn’t sure what to call Alfred’s tone, it’s too distinguished to call teasing, but that is exactly what is.

Bruce doesn’t respond to the question and instead respond with a simple, “Thank you, Alfred,” as he takes the package from him. As he turns to return to his sleeping companion, Alfred stops him with a question.

“We’ll she be staying with us long, sir?”

There is a hopeful inquisitiveness in his tone, a longing to know if Bruce had found someone, finally.

“I hope so, Alfred.”

The older man exhales slightly, “I wish you luck, sir.”

“Thank you.”

A part of him expects her to be awake when he returns to the room. He had hoped that he wouldn’t have to rouse her from her sleep. His footsteps are quiet as he pads across the floor and makes his way to bed. His added weight on the bed causes her to roll slightly and he chuckles at the way this causes the way her hair is made to splay around the crown of her head.

The back of his hand finds her cheek and he begins to gently rub on the soft satin like skin there. She groans slightly and her eyes flutter, but it doesn’t seem like she’s going to wake up at first. Then her sleepy eyes open, hooded in a way that was not unlike the gaze she gave him last night.

She doesn’t say anything as she begins to awaken, although a rather pouty frown pulls its way over her lips, clearly not happy with being awoken.

“What?” She says with a whine.

“Good morning to you too,” he says with a chuckle. “Something came for you.”

“For me?” She asks confusion lacing her groggy voice, brow furrowing in bewilderment.

He places the box in her lap and she sits up which allows the sheet fall away from her chest. She seems to be unashamed at the nudity, in fact, she doesn’t even seem to notice it.

“I didn’t order anything and who would know I was here?”

“Why don’t you just open it?” He says with a smile.

She looks at him and nods her head. She uses her fingers to rip at the box and it opens rather easily. She pulls back the flaps and removes the plastic rapping the sits on top. When she sees what sits in the box an audible gasp leaves her lips.

 

Her eyes light up as she removes the brass jewelry box from the container. She holds it up slightly and the light from the sun bounces off the embedded pearls, it really is a beautiful box. When she looks at him he can swear he can stars in her dewy eyes, “I don’t remember the last time someone gave me a gift.”

She gives him a wide smile that causes his heart to stop. Her lovely soft lips pull delicately over her pearl white teeth in an expression that borders on something holy. His throat tightens when he rubs a thumb on her cheekbone and she begins to lean into his touch. A satisfaction runs through him and he knows what it means. He can’t let her go, even if it’s the right thing to do.

 

 

 


	4. 4

The white rose on the front of jewelry box spins slightly every time you open and shut the lid, and every time it does you can’t help the smile that runs across your face. It’s a bit childish, you realize, to be infatuated with such a thing, but every time your eyes run over the frame of the small box you can’t help but feel a warmth spread over you when you see it. Your first gift in who knows how long, how were you not going to enjoy it.

 

A large warm hand comes to rest between your shoulder blades, you don’t tense at the touch but the hairs on your skin stand on in end in excitement at it. His thumb rubs gently, coaxing you to look at him.

 

His slightly sleepy hooded blue eyes, look at you with an adoration that makes you blush. He smiles when he sees your shy gaze and pulls you to him. You allow yourself to be pulled to him, clutching the box safely into your chest. Your head lands softly on the center of his on chest and he tenderly buries his hand into your hair, his fingers twirl at the at the locs and you can’t help but enjoy the feeling of his fingers running through your hair.

 

You let out a mewl of enjoyment when he begins to rub your scalp, causing another chuckle to spill from his lips.  

 

‘This is nice,’ You think to yourself. Your eyes close slightly enjoying the rhythm of his heart beat.

 

“I have somewhere to go tonight,” he says quietly.

 

“Do I have to dress up again?” you question with a yawn.

 

“No,” he says with a smile. “It’s just me tonight. You can stay here or have Alfred take you somewhere to eat.”

 

A frown pulls at your lips, “Okay, but won’t that be a little weird, I don’t want to force him to take care of some girl that he doesn’t know.”

 

“He won’t mind, in fact he’s rather happy that you’re here.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Believe it or not he thinks the bachelor life isn’t a happy one, so he takes joy in the fact that you’re here.”

 

Your lips pull into a thin line as your body stills at the implication and your mind wonders to the hesitations you had the night before. Were you ready to be someone’s somebody? Perhaps if it were someone else, your mind would scream no, but as his fingers continue to run through your hair and a rather soothing feeling runs over you, you begin to relax. You don’t feel nearly as panicked as you had been. Your press yourself against him and smile at the warmth.

“Maybe I can relieve him of his fears, at least temporarily.”

 

You don’t see it but a relieve smile spreads across his face. “Only temporarily?” He asks in a teasing tones.

 

“Yeah,” you say turning to look at him with a mischievous glint in our eye. “I haven’t decided if I like you yet.”

 

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow and a faux offended frown on his lips, “What more should I do to win your affection?”

 

“Let me go back to sleep and I’ll tell you how I feel about you when I wake up.”

 

“I can do that,” he said moving to wiggle the jewelry box free of your hands. He puts it on the night stand next to the bed and the moves to pull you up and close to his chest.

 

Your tucked into him in a rather protected position, curled into his chest. You let your hand rest on his chest, over where his heart is. You smile when you feel the thumping there. He pulls you close and you can’t help but smile as you begin to fall asleep when he presses a kiss to your forehead.

 

***

You decide not to take up Bruce’s offer to have Alfred take you to a fancy restaurant or to have him cook your dinner. In fact, you were a little worried when you had asked the butler if you could order a pizza that he would be offended. To your surprise he wasn’t and instead gave you rather kind smile and ordered it for you.

 

After eating to many slices of your favorite you found yourself exploring the large mansion that you’d been whisked away to. You quickly discovered that you wouldn’t be able to do it all in one night, but you did find one room that you enjoyed. You’d always wondered what it would be like to have enough money to have a library in your own home, but this one was larger than what you expected.  There was even a fire place inside of it.

 

You sit in front of the fire, watching the flames dance in front of your eyes. You imagined that after sometime you would have been bored, but you weren’t. There was something comforting about watching the way the flames twirled back and forth, the way that the oranges, reds, and yellows of the flames tied together to make such beautiful colors. There was something nostalgic about the sight, even though there had never been a time where you’d been able to enjoy such a comforting experience.

 

“It’s very late, miss.” A voice calls from the entrance of the library. You turn with a slight jump but relax when your eyes catch the familiar grey mane of the butler.

 

He walks into the room pushing a small two tiered cart, a blanket tucked and folded neatly on the bottom and a large mug and a plate with something on it that you can’t see.

 

“Is it?” You question. It hadn’t felt like you’d been here for a particularly long time.

 

He pulls a pocket watch from the slit in his jacket, “Almost one in the morning in fact.”

 

“Oh!” You say with wide eyes, “Shouldn’t you get some rest then? You don’t have to worry about me.”

 

“Master Wayne left you in my care,” he says in a matter of fact tone as he bends to pull the blanket from the cart.  He walks over to you and reaches down to place the blanket over your shoulders. You reach out to take it from him but he shakes his head and you allow him to drape the fabric around your shoulders.

 

“Thank you, Alfred,” You say with a smile.

 

“That’s not all, miss,” he says returning to the cart. He returns with mug and hands it to you.

 

“Hot chocolate?” You question with the smell wafts into your nose.

 

“It seemed appropriate,” He said moving to you with a small plate with small white shapes.

 

“Marshmallows?” You ask him with a questioning glaze.

 

“Not to your liking?” He asks standing back up.

 

“I wouldn’t know,” you say with a slightly strained smile. “I’ve never had them.”

 

“Oh,” he says in a slightly higher tone, denoting his surprise, without which would have never been able to see such an emotion. “Well then, two to start with, to see if you like them.”

 

He uses a small pair of tongs to grab the small sugary treats from the tray and drops two of them in your mug without so much as a splash.

 

You bring the mug up to your lips, and you can feel your mouth curl almost involuntarily at the corners. The soft dough slips past you lips and you begin to smile when the sweetness rolls over your tongue.

 

“This is delicious, Alfred, thank you.”

 

You give him a grateful smile and he gives you a warm one back as he precedes to place a few more of the soft sweets in your drink.

 

When he is finished, he begins to exit the room your gaze returns to the fire.

 

“Alfred?” You ask before he leaves.

 

You can hear the squeak of the wheels come to stop.

 

“Yes, miss.”

 

“He won’t be home for a while will he.”

 

“No, Miss. Do you need me to escort you to your room?”

 

“No, that’s okay. I’ll wait here.”

 

***

He’s sore when he comes home. He doesn’t want to admit it but his nightly escapades are taking a toll on his body. Coming up from the back cave he slowly navigates his way back to the room that he shared with her last night.

 

He is slightly surprised when he finds that she isn’t there. It’s late, so late that it is almost morning, so he doesn’t want to wake Alfred, but where is she?

 

He walks the halls for a moment, all of the lights are out so it takes a moment to find her. When he finds her in his library curled under a small blanket in front of the fire place, an empty mug sitting at her side. Soft sighs escape her slightly parted lips and he lets a smile cross his face.

 

Carefully he bends down hooking his arms under her neck and the dip behind her legs. His back aches as he lifts her up and curls her to his chest, however her quiet sighs make the slight stinging pain worth it.

 

Carefully, he carries her back to her room laying her gently on the bed, however the moment that her head rests on the pillow her eyes open slightly. She watches him as he quietly slips under the covers with her.

 

“Did you have fun at your party?” She asks groggily.

 

He freezes, slightly taken off guard by her voice. “Not really,” he said the practiced lie coming smoothly coming to his lips. “Nothing that I haven’t been to before.”

 

“Hmm,” she hums in seeming understanding even though she had barley comprehended what he was saying. “That’s nice.”

 

She presses a hand this chest and begins to move closer to him, but the place where she puts her hand is sore and it causes him to flinch involuntarily. This causes her eyes to flash open with an alertness that hadn’t been there before.

 

“Are you alright, Bruce?”

 

“Yes, I just pulled a muscle.”

 

“At a party?” She asks with a raised eyebrow.

 

“I think from last night.” He again lies.

 

“Oh,” she says a slight flush coming to her cheeks, slight embarrassment running down her spine. Had she been too heavy for him when he carried her to the bed? or when he brought her here? “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s not your fault,” he says letting a large hand come and pat down her hair affectionately. “I’m as you said, ‘old.’”

 

She gives him a shy smile and shakes her head at his self-deprecating jibe, “Not that old.”

 

“A little, old.”

 

“Only a little,” She teases back. She lays her head gingerly back down closing her eyes. She rubs tenderly at the spot on his chest.

 

She falls asleep quickly after that.

 

He feels strange he realizes, watching her sleeping face, lying to her, especially since she had agreed to trust him more than perhaps she had trusted anyone besides her friend. His years of experience however, quickly allow him to rationalize this worry away. His goal in removing her from that life was to protect her, and his lies would be that also.

 

***

_‘When are you coming home? I need you. Did you leave me for him? You did, didn’t you? You barely know him.  He’s going to get tired of you eventually. You’re going to be thro- **message deleted.’**_

 

It was the third message that Kayla had left you in the past two weeks since you had come to stay at Wayne Manor. The first was a fifteen-minute rant about how you ruined her life that left you a crying heap on the floor of you room. The second was about how she was waiting for you to comeback home so the two of you could be the sisters you were again. After listening to this third one, you had a feeling that the remainder of the fifteen messages in your voicemail were somewhat similar.

Your gaze slides over to the blinds, yellow light from the setting sun shines outside, a break in the heavy winter that you had been experiencing. You feel guilty. You had abandoned her, you both knew that.  You had done it on purpose, you’d given up on her, to better yourself. Did that make you a bad person? When you first arrived in Gotham, she’d been there for you. She got you the apartment where you both moved into, taught you how to survive on the street, and while some may contend that teaching someone how to be a better hooker was not the best course of action, she still helped you.

 

If the tables were turned, and you were the one strung out on coke, would she have left you the way that you left her?

 

Maybe. Maybe not.

 

Somewhere deep inside of you however, you knew the reason that you were actually feeling bad was because you weren’t feeling bad. Listening to the cries that she screamed over the phone left you feeling rather hollow, they didn’t move you in the way that you would have hoped they would. Were you a bad person for feeling nothing at all?

 

“Are you okay?” A smooth voice rings in your ear as the warm hand grasp your shoulder.

 

You turn and meet the blue eyes of your date and you give him a sad smile, “I’m all right. I’m just a little confused.”

 

“Anything that I can do to help?” He asks genuinely.

 

“No,” you say with a shake of your head. “I think this is something that I will have to fix this myself, eventually.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He takes the opportunity to sit on the bed with you, taking your hand and rubbing small circles on the back of it.

 

It’s quiet for a moment.

 

“Do you feel like coming down?” He asks with furrowed brow,

 

“Of course,” you say with a smile. “I’m not going to start slacking on the job now.”

 

“You still think it’s a job?”

 

You roll your eyes, “Only the talking to rich people I don’t know part. The ‘dancing with you in a pretty dress’ part I like well enough.”

 

“I see,” he says with a chuckle. He holds his wrist up and examines the time. “You’ll need to put on that pretty dress soon, Alfred can only stall them for so long.”

 

You stuck your tongue out at the older man but nod anyway.

 

***

This party was different from the rest. For one, the party was at Wayne manor hosted by Bruce. While you had agreed, in some fashion, to be with Bruce, you supposed a part of you still thought you would kept as a dirty little secret. Being some’s date at someone else’s party was different than being their date at their party, especially when it was at their house.

 

You examine the party attendees from behind the glass patio doors. A few had cut your eyes, and you had been slightly surprised when they cast you a wave of recognition. How did they know who you were? Why did they look at you like you were supposed to be here?

 

You smooth the heavy skirt of your cream-colored gown. Was it appropriate? When was it appropriate to start wearing white again? You’d seen some of the other ladies in the property wearing something close to white, but you were the only one wearing a full on white dress.

 

You catch your reflection in the mirror and let out a small shaky sigh. The glint of the silver jewelry hanging from your ears and your neck was a strange sight. You didn’t look like you, you didn’t feel like you. What would happen if you went out there and started talking to someone of those people and they realized that despite our look, you weren’t the sophisticated lady that your appearance gave off. Charlotte, the little angel that she was, had figured you out quickly enough, you had just been lucky that she had been sweet.

 

Your hand comes up to your chest in an attempt to calm your beating heart. You don’t know why you feel this way, this happened almost every time you got ready to go to a party. After almost a month you felt like that you should have been over this feeling by now, but you aren’t. A part of you still felt like an imposter. It was in moments like these where you wanted to run back in your small crappy apartment, sitting by your radiator, nursing Kayla down from her hangover. At least then you would know who you were.

 

“You look beautiful,” Bruce calls as he approaches and you cut your eyes to look at him. He wore a navy-colored tux and patent leather shoes.

 

“Oh God, you really are one of them,” you mutter with a shake of your head.

 

“One of who?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

 

“One of those stuffy rich guys that you see in the movies.”

 

“What?”

 

“Look at what you’re wearing, you look you’re going to ask me how my stocks and bonds are and what’s my favorite brand of caviar.”

 

“I’m not going to do that, I already know you don’t like it.”

 

You cut your eyes away from him in irritation causing a chuckle to fall from his lips.  He presses a kiss to your forehead, causing you to close your eyes and let a sigh feeling some of the tension roll off of your shoulders.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asks being able to feel your slight tightness.

 

You want to lie, to tell him nothing is wrong. You don’t want to place any stress on him, to ruin his party, but the truth spills from your lips before you can stop it. “I’m afraid everyone here is going to know I’m a fraud and I’ll embarrass not just you but myself too.”

 

He pauses for a moment examining your slightly panicking form. “To tell you the truth the only person in Wayne Manor, besides, Alfred, that’s not a fraud is you.”

 

“Me?”

 

“Most of us are trust fund babies,” he says with a shrug.  “We only have our status because someone gave it to us, and those that worked to be here usually have screwed someone else over to get here. In actuality, you are probably the only who as any actual experience in the outside world. We don’t leave it because we don’t have to.”

 

“So, you’re almost like fake people?”

 

“Something like that,” he says with a shrug. “So be confident, you have something over all of us.”

 

“Okay,” You say with a nod. You let out slight stuttering sigh and grab his free hand. “I can do this.”

 

“All right, let’s start the party then.”

 

***

 

Sebastian looks at the image on his phone and his eyes slide over the woman in white hanging on Bruce Wayne’s arm.

 

It was her all right. He’d knew he seen her before but this was delicious. He lets a smirk curl over his face. He wouldn’t publicly embarrass Bruce Wayne. That wouldn’t be good for business. But just to be a screw in his shoe, to be a thorn in his side, to be able to bask in the fact that Bruce would know that someone would know the secret of his little pet.

 

“Wayne there you are!”

 

His shout gets the pairs attention first, the girls wide doe like eyes meet his first. He wants to laugh when he sees the visible frown pull down on her full lips. Wayne has a much more contained reaction, something he expected of someone who is actually trained.

 

“Oh, you made it Sebastian.” Bruce starts politely, “I hadn’t expected you to come, especially after what happened.”

 

Sebastian let’s his own frown paint his features as the woman looks between the two of them curiously. “Yes, well, we were lucky that Batman decided to see fit to expose the money laundering scheme that was taking place, it was only fair that I release Charlotte from the agreement that her parents and I made.”

 

“Money laundering?” She says in surprise she says placing a surprised hand over her mouth.

 

“Yes, one of the executives at my company seemed to be using his position to fund the mob,” Sebastian said with a shrug.

 

“And Batman figured it out?”

 

“Yes,” He says again with gritting teeth.

 

“Wow,” she says with wide eyes looking at Bruce expecting him to mirror her slight surprise and excitement, he merely gives her smile. “Is Charlotte here?”

 

“I didn’t see her,” Bruce says. “But she was invited, why don’t you go and look for her.”

 

She gives him a smile and nod; her eyes darken when she looks Sebastian but she gives him a polite nod nonetheless before she leaves.

 

“She is a beauty, Wayne,” Sebastian.

 

“She is, I’m lucky to have found her,” he responds conversationally. He raises his finger up and summons a waiter to give him a flute of champagne.

 

Sebastian takes one as well, “How much did she cost?”

 

He expects Bruce’s eyes to widen in shock, to look scared at the thought that someone found out secret. But he doesn’t he just drains his flute.

 

“I couldn’t tell you,” he says with a shrug. “Alfred took her shopping for that outfit I just gave her the card.”

 

“You know what I meant Wayne,” Sebastian hisses angrily. “You’re trying to take a whore you found in the middle of downtown Gotham and turn her into a housewife. I can’t wait to see what the press says when they find out where your new pet came from.”

 

There something dark in Bruce Wayne’s, Sebastian realizes. He’d never seen someone’s eyes actually physically darken before. His eyes seem to scan him up down, as if he was testing to see his resolve. Sebastian can hear his heart pounding in his ears. He realizes that he feels small and that perhaps this had not been the best course of action.

 

Then suddenly the feeling is gone. Whatever monster that resides in Bruce Wayne is force back in his cage disappears as a polite smile crosses his lips.

 

“Mr. Wayne over here!”

 

Sebastian realizes that he had been saved from whatever hell he was about to experience by another unassuming party goer.

 

“You have a good night, Sebastian.”

 

He purposefully bumps his shoulder into Sebastian, causing pain to bloom throughout his body.

 

When he’s gone Sebastian finally lets out a breath, one that he hadn’t known he was holding. He looks around and realizes that none had seen his quiet embarrassment, however he still felt mortified.

 

He slips away from the party and into the house and quiet place to relieve his nerves.

 

***

“Alfred, have you seen Charlotte out there?”

 

The man turned his back on the Chefs who were preparing to serve deserts to the guests. “I don’t seem to remember Miss Charlotte arriving this evening.”

 

“Oh,” you say with a slight pout. You wanted to celebrate with her, getting away from that slime ball was something that deserved a party unto itself.

 

“Feeling a little lonely, miss.” He questions coming to stand by your side.

 

“Of course, you aren’t out there out keep me company,” you say giving him a toothy smile that he happily returns. “But really, I think sometimes I need a break from all of the attention, you know? I don’t know how he does it.”

 

“Years of practice, miss. You’ll get used to it.”

 

Cheeks flush at the implication and your shake your head at the thought, “Whatever you say Alfred.”

 

The sound of glass shattering rings through your ears causing both you and the butler to jump in alarm. A deep frown set in on the older man’s face.

 

“It seems I have to go and teach the staff how to do their jobs,” he gives you a slight nod and turns away from you.

 

 With a chuckle, you exit the kitchen and begin to make your journey back to the patio. When you reach the foyer however, footsteps catch your attention.  Your eyes are quickly drawn to the main staircase. And you seem a body disappear to the west wing of the house.

 

“Hey!” You shout eyebrows furrowing in confusion when the person didn’t come back down stairs. There were plenty of bathrooms on the first floor why would they go upstairs. You toss a glance to the patio but shake your head, resolving yourself to after the person.

 

A few seconds later you’re up the stairs with slightly sore high-heeled feet. Whoever was up here was going to get an earful for making you walk up these stairs in these shoes.

 

You walk down the hall and realize that whoever it is in the house is much farther in than you would have thought. If they were looking for a bathroom it would have been the first door to the left, but the shuffling that could be heard from a familiar room let you know that they weren’t looking for it.

 

You cast a rueful gaze back down the stairs, maybe you should tell Alfred that there is stranger snooping around the house.

 

‘He’s busy already,’ you rationalize remembering the staff mess ups.

 

You make your way down the hall turn and find the door to the library open. You open the slightly cracked door, slightly glad that the hinges don’t creak thanks to Alfred’s expert care for them.

 

“Sebastian?” You question slightly surprised to see the man in the room. He’s standing next to the mini bar, and has one of Bruce’s glasses pressed to his lips. “You know this is off limits to guests, that’s why everyone is downs stairs.”

 

“Then why are you here?” He questions looking at you seriously. He doesn’t have slur to his voice, you note as he refiles the glass with Bourbon, but you imagine he does feel slightly freer to say whatever is on his mine.

 

“I live here,” you assert.

 

“Oh, so he really does keep you as a pet.”

 

“W-what?”

 

He merely looks at you with a slightly raised eyebrow as if to question your sincerity. He pulls his phone out of his pocket clicks it a few times and holds it out toward you. You approach somewhat cautiously. What you see is a photo that makes your heart stop.

 

It’s picture of a slightly younger you with an older man.  You are straddling him, arms wrapped around the man’s neck. Lips pressed rather harshly against him. His nails are digging into the bare skin of your back. The purple lighting and the slight smoke in the air, you remember them all. You remember the beat of the music thumping the back ground. The audible sniffs coming a table in the corner where Kayla and her clients where sitting. You know that night.

 

“W-where did you get this?” You ask with nervous stutter.

 

“Funny thing,” He said slipping the phone into his pocket. “When I saw you at the party, I swore I must’ve known you somewhere. But I couldn’t name it, which is a shame because you really are beautiful, and I tend not forget a pretty face. It was bothering me so one night I was scrolling through my phone and I found this. Its old, three or four years ago, so it took a while, but here it is.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Does he know how many of us you went down on that night?”

 

“He knows already, what I did,” you say feeling your throat tighten with anxiety.

 

“Did?” He questions with a cock of his head? “Or do, because I have a feeling that he paid you to where that dress.”

 

“He didn’t,” you say shaking your head.

 

“You don’t have to lie,” he says holding his arms out in a faux welcoming tone. He walks toward you and you take steps back. “He pays you well, doesn’t he?”

 

“He doesn’t pay me anymore.”

 

“Anymore?” He questions pressing you into a wall. His leg presses between your thighs. “It looks like he’s still paying you. Are those diamonds in your ears? That looks like payment to me. Do I have to buy you a diamond too?”

 

“Please,” you say bring your hands to his chest and pressing him away. “Just stop, leave.”

 

“I’m offering payment, what’s the issue?”

 

“I don’t do that anymore.”

 

“I think you do,” he says curling a finger around a strand of your hair. “You just won’t do them for me. At least not without the proper incentive.”

 

Your arms fall slack for a moment and you look at him warily.

 

“There wasn’t just photo I found,” he says with a shrug. “There is a video I think Mr. Wayne might be interested in seeing. Might give him some ideas for the positions to put you in.”

 

“Why are you doing this?”

 

“Quite simply because I can,” he says with a nod of his head, “And frankly, Wayne annoys me. Seeing him humiliated would give me the upmost pleasure.”

 

“Even if you tell me you’re going to show him I won’t do it,” you say with tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “I told you, he already knows what I used to do. He’s not dumb, I imagine that he knows that something like this happened. The only people you’ve managed to embarrass is me, and a girl you don’t care about, and yourself for thinking you’d be able to hold something over him.”

 

His cheeks flush bright red with anger and before you know what’s happened a stinging impact explodes over your cheek. The familiar the metallic taste of blood runs over your tongue, and you’re left frozen. It’s been sometime since you’ve been hit. A part of you is overjoyed at the feeling of disgust and anger that rushes through your system, there was a point in your career when you were accustomed to being hit.

 

Your lip is busted, that much you can tell. The blood rushes from your mouth and dribbles down to the bodice of your cream dress staining it. ‘I’ve ruined it.’

 

“Are you going to give me what I want or not?”

 

Your eyes meet the strained ones that are barreling into you, stuck between the fear of realizing what he had just done and the humiliation of your words.

 

With as much force as you can muster you slam your body against his pushing him away from you. You are quick to sprint out the door and up the hallway, back to the foyer.

 

Relief floods your body when you hear Bruce’s familiar smooth tone, “Have you seen her, Alfred? She was looking for Charlotte.”

 

Alfred’s response is cut off by the click of your heels entering the room. The rapid pace of them causes both men to snap their attention to your form.

 

Alfred must see the blood on your dress first because he lets out an audible gasp.

You hurriedly make your way down the stairs, almost falling as you fling yourself in to Bruce’s chest. When his scent floods your nose, your tears fall and you begin to sob. His arms pull you close.

 

“What happened?” He asks into the crown of your head.

 

“You won’t hate me when you find out what I used to do, will you?” You cry through your pain.

 

“I already, know what you used to do,” he whispers in your ear with a comforting tone. His eyes flash over to Alfred who goes to retrieve something to stop the bleeding.

 

“Not all of it,” you say with a shake of your head. “You’ll think I’m disgusting when you find out.”

 

Alfred returns with a cold compress, and gives it to Bruce, he then returns to distract the staff and the guests from the situation occurring in the foyer.

 

“Never,” he said pulling you away from him and looking at you with stern eyes. Despite his tone though, he gently presses the towel against your lip, wiping away the blood and pressing down to stop the flow. “I already told you to let me take care of you, whatever or whoever you were before we met doesn’t matter to me, unless it’s important to you. If you never want to talk to me about your past I don’t mind.”

 

You nod, tears welling up again, happy that what you had told Sebastian in bluff, was actually the truth.

 

“It’s Sebastian,” you relent. “He says he has a photo and video of me from three years ago. He saved them on his phone. He wanted to use them as blackmail to make me have sex with him, when I said no, he did this.”

 

Despite your explanation, you aren’t really sure if Bruce heard you. His eyes, which usually focus in on your when you speak are averted as if he’s looking behind you. You don’t think that you have ever seen fury on his face and a part of you doubts that you ever actually will. His eyes however tell a different story. They are hard and piercing, and if he ever was actually looking at you with that sort of stare, you’d probably find yourself wanting to curl over and die.

 

A hard kiss is pressed to your forehead and you are pushed to the side, like you are being passed off to someone. The hands that are placed on your shoulders are warm and you look up into Alfred’s graying face.

 

“This way, miss. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

 

You don’t fight him as he pulls you away, but you do glance back to see Bruce stalking up the stairs toward a panicked looking Sebastian.

 

***

You’d never gotten to use the down stairs bathroom before, never had the need to, you supposed. But as you soak in the warm water of the rather large claw footed tub, you determine that despite the fact that this is the guest bathroom, it was no less luxurious than any other in the rest of the house. White tile, walls, tub, marble, with gold accents and a dim light that gave everything a warm glow, made the room beautiful.

 

A knock on the door causes you to jump a little and you sink down covering yourself with the bubbles. You relax slightly realizing that it’s only Bruce, as he walks through door. He gives you a smile when he sees you and you give him a small one back.

 

He comes to you and kneels at the edge of the tub watching you with slightly concerned eyes.

 

“Are you okay?” He asks.

 

“I’m fine, I’m sorry about the dress though.”

 

“That’s not your fault, you can get ten more to replace it.”

 

You look down, “You know you don’t have to buy me things, right? I don’t want you have to feel like you have to keep giving me things now that you aren’t paying me.”

 

A large hand comes up rest on your cheek. His thumb rubs at the skin softly, you lean your face into his hand smiling softly.  Your eyes drip down to his other hand and see the other hand.  You can see slight bruising and swelling around the knuckles. You reach for his hand and dip it in the warm water

 

“I always miss the fight,” you say running your finger affectionately over his injured knuckles.

 

“Always?”

 

“My father and my brothers used to fight all the time. Mailmen, other boys at the school, the clerk at the liquor store that wouldn’t sell them cigarettes.”

 

“Sounds like an exciting time.”

 

“Hectic is more like it,” You say with a chuckle.

 

It’s silent for a moment and you feel embarrassment rise up inside of you.

 

“Did you see the picture?” You ask him in a small voice.

 

“No,” he says quickly, “And you don’t have to worry about it, I made sure that it won’t be a problem in the future.”

 

“And if another comes up? Or if there is something on the internet of me that pops up?”

 

“It doesn’t matter, and I don’t want you to dwell on it anymore. Going forward, don’t think about your past if you don’t want to. I know it can be hard, technically I may come off as a hypocrite telling to let the past go, but if that helps you we’ll never bring it up.”

 

“How are you a hypocrite?” You ask looking up at him with wide eyes.

 

His eyes seem to flicker between emotions for a moment, as if he is quickly debating telling you something but he doesn’t, “I’ll tell you later I promise.”

 

“Okay,” you say with a nod of your head. “I promise that I’ll try not to be ashamed of my past.”

 

He presses a kiss to your forehead and stands to leave the room. He pauses at the door.

 

“This is your home now, and you can do anything you want. Don’t think that I’m the type of person who would just get rid of you on a whim. Even if you hated me for some reason, I wouldn’t make you leave unless you wanted to.”

“Why?” You ask. “Why do you care so much.”

 

“I don’t know.” He says truthfully. “I don’t know why the thought of you leaving or letting you go hurts. From the moment, you came back to my hotel, I knew I couldn’t leave you alone.”

 

“Oh,” you say letting the words sink into you. “I think I feel the same. If it wasn’t you I don’t think I would care so much what someone thought of me. I’ve never been ashamed before, but when I think about you finding out if I’m good enough. But it seems like I need to get out of my own head.”

 

 “Maybe just a little,” he says with a smile.

 

You give him a smile back as he closes the door behind him. A fluttery feeling rushes over you. He had alleviated your unspoken worries. Perhaps now you could finally get comfortable living in your new life.

 

***

Yellow looks good on her, Kayla decides, as she watches the woman hurry into the small ditty dinner. Her clothing is immaculate and compared to what she looked like months ago, it just doesn’t seem like she belongs in the room.

 

Her worried doe like eyes scan the room and Kayla raises her hand. The girl-no woman looked over at her with wide eyes and hurried over to her booth.

 

“Kayla,” she breathes in a huff. “You’re okay.”

 

“Yeah,” Kayla says having to avert her eyes from her bright white teeth. “How have you been.”

 

She looks angry at Kayla’s words and her cute lightly make up covered face scrunches up to reflect the irritation. “Kayla, you called me like you were in danger. ‘Can you come get me? I need you. Someone’s following me.’ Do you remember that? I thought you were in danger!”

 

“I know, but I thought that you would come otherwise. You haven’t been answering my calls otherwise.”

 

She rolls her eyes but her shoulders visibly relax. Her own manicured hand shoots up getting the attention of a waitress.

 

“Can you bring me of coffee please,” she says flashing her a bright smile. The waitress nods.

 

They wait in silence.

 

The waitress comes and sits a small mug in front of her, and pours the dark liquid.

 

“Thank you,” she says shaking a packet of sugar. She flicks her eyes over at Kayla, “I’m assuming you ate already.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Good.”

 

They sit in silence and Kayla runs her eyes over her form for a moment. Her eyes happen to fall on to her left hand and her breath catches in her throat.

 

“He’s marrying you?” Kayla questions incredulously.

 

She stops stirring her coffee and her eyes cuts from the large diamond sitting on her finger and back over to her friend, “He asked me, I said yes.”

 

“Congratulations I guess,” Kayla says with a shrug. “Thanks for telling me.”

 

“I haven’t told anyone, Kayla.”

 

“I guess you’re right, it would have been front page news if you had.”

 

“What do you want, Kayla.”

 

“You look so good,” Kayla. “Makes you wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t given him to you, if I got in his car that night.”

 

“Maybe, maybe not, but we aren’t talking about that right now Kayla, what do you want.”

 

“I’m homeless now, you know, since you left.”

 

“Is that what you want? You want me to pay for your rent?”

 

“No, I want you to come home, and fix things like you used to.”

 

“I have a new home now Kayla,” She says with steely eyes. “Even if I hadn’t met Bruce there is no guarantee that I would still be with you.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Our job, the way we were living, you have to know that I never planned to stay there. That wasn’t the life that I wanted.”

 

“So, you always planned on leaving me, he just sped up the process.”

 

“I wanted to take you with me, you have to know that. But every time we got a little bit of money you shoved it up your nose.”

 

“We could have made more.”

 

“I did Kayla! I did. I tried to make sure that we had everything that we needed to survive but every time I moved us forward you moved us back. Listen to me, can you think of a month where we weren’t struggling not to get evicted?”

 

Kayla flashes her eyes down. She doesn’t want to give her an answer that she knows will only hurt her argument. She knows that the reason her only friend left her was her own fault. She recalled the conversations they had about moving to different neighbor hoods and trying to make a better life for themselves. If she was honest, the thought of leaving everything that she had known was scary. Perhaps that was why she was almost inadvertently sabotaging the plans for more.

 

“I shouldn’t have cut you off, that was wrong of me. I’m sorry for that, but I’m not going to enable you anymore. If you want me to help you, I will, but I’m not going to feed your drug habit.”

 

“What you going to lock me up?”

 

“If that’s what you want, maybe therapy? I don’t know what causes you to harm yourself so much, but you have to fix that.”

 

“You’ll pay for it?”

 

“I’ll pay for it,” she says with a smile. “I don’t want you to think that I hate you, I think we both need to be on the same page, and to do that we both need to be sober.”

 

“All right.”

 

“All right.”

 

The woman no- her best friend pulls out her wallet and places a few bills on the table, before she stands.

 

“You’re leaving?”

 

“No, we’re leaving.” She reaches out and grabs her arm and pulls her out of her seat.

 

“Where are we going.” Kayla eyes blink away at tears as they try to adjust the midday sun.

 

“Getting you home,” she says as if it’s obvious.

“Home?”

 

“You think I’m just going to let one of the people I care most about in this world suffer? I just wanted, need you to come to the decision that you would change for yourself. Like I said, it was never my intention to leave you behind, I’m not the only one that deserves happiness.”

 

Kayla smiles and tucks herself into her arm, “Thanks.”

 

She doesn’t get a response as she’s pulled to a town car. The door is opened by and older gentlemen who Kayla expects to receive a judgmental gaze from but she doesn’t. She feels a small hand on her back pushing her to slide into the vehicle.

 

Inside, there is a familiar face waiting. He gives her a smile and blush runs over her cheeks and her eyes flash over to her friend.

 

“Why are you surprised?” She questions with a chuckle. “You told me you were in trouble so I came.”

 

“I didn’t think I’d derail your whole day.”

 

She raises an eyebrow in suspicions, and Kayla has to relent, that was what she wanted, for her to drop everything to come save her. The fact that she actually did made her feel warm inside, but a little embarrassed now that she had to deal with the reality of the panic that she caused.

 

“Sorry for being a drama queen. And sorry to you too, Mr. Wayne.”

 

He flashes her another good-natured smile, “It doesn’t bother me, it was her call and good excuse for me to get out of my meeting.”

 

“You haven’t gotten out of anything,” his fiancée snips quickly. “If you don’t go, I’ll get an earful from Charlotte’s mother about how your never there. It’s bad enough you fall asleep.”

 

His lips press into a flat line, “But that why you’re there.”

 

“And I’m busy today.”

 

Kayla can tell that he wants to bicker but she raises an eyebrow at him and it seems to quiet him down.

 

Kayla wants to pretend that there has been a change in her friend but there hasn’t. She’s always been like this, assertive and confident. Then she thinks about the cruel things that she’s said to her. How she tried to tear her down. She fills a pit of guilt form in her stomach.

 

She stews on her thoughts for so long she misses when they arrive at Wayne Enterprises and drop the man off.

 

“What bugging you?”

 

Kayla looks up at her friend before pressing her forehead into her arm.

 

“When I get better and I get a job you have to let me get you something so I can make up for all of the stupid shit I’ve done and put you through.”

 

“The only thing that I want is for you to be better, so we can be like sisters again.”

 

“I can do that.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Also, I lied earlier, I didn’t eat. Can we stop and get something?”

 

“Sure, anything you want.”


End file.
